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JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN 



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BROWN THURSTON 


COMPANY 




PORTLAND, MAINE 






1890 






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According to the gkaoe of God which was given unto me, as a wise master- 
buildek i laid a foundation. 

1 Corinthians Hi. K^Revised Version. 



One WHO nevek turned his back, but marched breast forward. 
Never doubted clouds would break. 

Robert Browning. 



CONTENTS. 



I Biographical Sketch, ^ . . • i 

II Inaugural Address, 37 

III Religion and Philanthrophy, 6i 

IV Bishop Butler, 87 

V Daniel Webster as a Statesman and an Orator, . . 115 

VI Christian Education, i47 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCIi 



BY 



HENRY S. BURRAGE, D.D. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



Two thoughts (2 Tim iv. 7) were present with the Apostle 
Paul as he came to the close of his long and eventful career; 
first, that his had been a well-spent life, and second, that 
■throughout his Christian course he had never relinquished 
his personal faith in Christ. All along the ages, from the 
time of the apostle, there have been others, disciples of the 
same Master, who could say, " I have completed the glori- 
ous contest, I have finished the course, I have kept the 
faith." They are the men who with an untiring energy 
. have labored as did Paul for the higher interests of man- 
kind ; and who like him, in all their Christian way, have 
proved faithful to their divine Savior and Lord. Of such 
was James Tift Champlin. 

He was a son of John and Martha (Armstrong) Champ- 
lin, and was born in Colchester, Connecticut, June 9, 181 1. 
Soon after his birth his parents removed to Lebanon, in the 
same state, where he spent his boyhood and youth on his 
father's farm. When about fourteen years of age he united 
with the Baptist church in Lebanon. The desire for a col- 
legiate training at length took possession of him, and in the 
autumn of 1828, when a little more than seventeen years of 
age, he repaired to Colchester Academy, where he entered 
upon a course of preparation for college under Preceptor 



2i JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

Otis- His studies were continued at Plainfield Academy, 
under Preceptor Witter. 

In September, 1830, he was admitted to the Freshman 
class in Brown University. Dr. Wayland had entered upon 
his duties as president of the university in February, 1827, 
and his strong personality made an abiding impression upon 
the young student. " I greatly admired the man," was his 
testimony in his later years, " and received a great impulse 
from his life, his teachings, and especially from his sermons 
in the church, and his short, pithy addresses to the students 
in the chapel." At the graduation of his class in 1834, he. 
delivered an oration on " The Philosopher and the Philan- 
thropist Compared," with the valedictory addresses. Among 
his classmates were Hon. J. R. Bullock, afterward governor 
of Rhode Island, and Rev. Silas Bailey, d.d., president of 
Granville College, now Denison University, at Granville, 
Ohio, and later president of Franklin College, at Franklin, 
Indiana. 

A few months before he received his degree, Mr. Champ- 
lin was elected principal of the Manual Labor school at 
Pawtuxet, Rhode Island, near Providence. But the posi- 
tion was not an agreeable one, and in a few months he 
returned to the university as a resident graduate. In Sep- 
tember, 1835, he was appointed a tutor in the university, 
and retained the office until March, 1838. Rev. J. S. Magin- 
nis, D.D., in the preceding year, had resigned the pastorate 
of the First Baptist Church in Portland, Maine, in order to 
accept the professorship of biblical theology in the Semi- 
nary at Hamilton, New York. He suggested Tutor Champ- 
lin as a suitable candidate for the vacancy, and the latter 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 6 

came to Portland, and preached in the old church on Fed- 
eral Street the first two Sundays in January, 1838. Corre- 
spondence followed, and February 5, 1838, the church voted 
unanimously to extend a call to Mr. Champlin. The soci- 
ety concurred on the following day. Mr. Champlin pre- 
ferred not to decide the question of duty in reference to this 
call until he had become better acquainted with the people 
among whom he was invited to labor. After spending sev- 
eral weeks in Portland he addressed a letter, April 11, to 
the committee of the church, announcing his acceptance of 
the call; and having been received to membership April 30, 
from the Baptist church in Lebanon, Connecticut, Mr. 
Champlin was ordained in Portland, May 3, 1838. At this 
service Dr. Dwight of Portland read the Scriptures and 
offered prayer; President Pattison of Waterville preached 
the sermon ; Rev. Adam Wilson of Portland offered the 
ordaining prayer; Rev. Thomas Curtis of Bangor gave the 
charge to the candidate; Rev. T. O. Lincoln, pastor of the 
Free Street Church, Portland, extended the hand of fellow- 
ship ; Rev. Z. Bradford of Yarmouth delivered the address 
to the church ; and the concluding prayer was offered by 
Rev. Alvan Felch of New Gloucester. Mr. Champlin en- 
tered upon his labors with great earnestness, and proved an 
efficient and successful pastor. But from the first his health 
was very precarious. His lungs were weak and susceptible 
to cold and irritation, and preaching greatly aggravated the 
difficulty. But he loved the work, and was happy in it. 

In the second year of his pastorate, June 12, 1839, Mr. 
Champlin was married to Mary Ann Pierce of Providence, 
Rhode Island, President Wayland performing the ceremony. 



4 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

In 1840, precious revival influences were enjoyed, and about 
eighty new members were added to the church by baptism. 
On the annual Fast Day, 1841, he preached a sermon on 
the " Death of President Harrison," which was published by 
request of the society. But pleasantly as he was situated, 
and much as he loved his work, the bronchial difhculty, that 
had troubled him from the beginning of his pastorate, in- 
creased, and there were times when he was unable to preach. 
At the annual commencement of Waterville College, Au- 
gust II, 1841, he was elected professor of ancient lan- 
guages in that institution. The conviction already had 
been frequently forced upon his mind that it would be 
impossible for him long to continue in the pastorate. Yet 
he could not endure the thought of engaging in any entirely 
secular calling. A professorship at Waterville would ena- 
ble him to continue his labors for the higher interests of 
mankind; and in a letter dated August 23, 1841, he pre- 
sented to the church his resignation as pastor. In this 
letter, after stating the reasons that had led him to request 
dismission, he said, referring to the position offered to him 
at Waterville : — 

As this office will enable me to avail myself of my early studies, and 
at the same time presents a field of usefulness perhaps fully as important 
as the ministry, while it will relieve me almost entirely of the most injuri- 
ous part of my present employment, I feel myself bound to ask my dis- 
mission as pastor of this church, in anticipation of accepting the appoint- 
ment. I have not come to this conclusion without much serious and pray- 
erful consideration, and I hope not without the approbation of my heav- 
enly Father. It would give me pleasure to spend my days with you, did 
it appear to be duty, but I cannot make myself think it is. I have been 
as happy and as contented in my relation to this church as I well could be 
in connection with any church ; and I am happy to have this opportunity 



JAMES riFT CHAMPLIN. 5 

of expressing my sincere and heartfelt thanks for the Christian kindness 
and courtesy with which you have invariably treated me, as well as for the 
many favors and attentions which you have bestowed upon myself and 
family. Be assured that they will never be forgotten. 

The resignation was accepted, and the church, in a letter 
dated August 30, 1841, responded to the pastor's communi- 
cation. From this letter I take the followino- • _ 

When but a little more than three years since you became our pastor, we 
fondly hoped that a long time would elapse ere the relation between us 
would be dissolved. As weeks and months rolled away, each succeeding 
one witnessing a stronger and still stronger attachment between yourself 
and this church, the h<*)pe that you would be able in time to come to bring 
to us the lessons of experience, and the wisdom of age, was cherished by 
us with the reasonable confidence that it would be real^ed. But an all- 
seeing and an all-wise God had otherwise ordained. A little more than a 
year since, during the precious revival enjoyed under your ministrations, 
we had evident intimations that your work in the ministry must be short. 
The conviction was a painful one, but time has not contributed in the least 
to soften it. It is this conviction alone, dear brother, which reconciles us 
in any degree to the idea of giving you up. But as the hand of Provi- 
dence seems plainly to have indicated the path of duty, we have, though 
with deep and painful regret, complied with your request to be dismissed 
from the pastoral charge of this church. Allow us before closing to ex- 
press our highest sense of the value of your labor among us, of the truly 
evangelical character of your pulpit ministrations, of the ability and impar- 
tiality with which you have expounded to us the Word of God, and of the 
solicitude with which you have watched over our spiritual interests. We 
heartily thank you, dear brother, for your labors of love among us, for 
your patience and forbearance, and for all the means you have adopted to 
do us good. The Lord abundantly reward you and bless you in the new 
and effective sphere of usefulness which he has opened before you. It 
gives us great pleasure to know that you are to remain in our state. Al- 
low us to hope that we shall see you occasionally, at least, in our pulpit, 
and that we shall never cease to have an interest in your prayers. 



b JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

This letter .was signed in behalf of the church by Thomas 
Hammond, Joseph Ricker and Joseph Hay. 

The society adopted the following resolutions: — 

Resolved, That the members of the First Baptist Society in Portland 
deeply regret that the relation hereto existing between them and their pas- 
tor, Rev. J. T. Champlin, is dissolved in consequence of the ill health of 
the latter, and that his usefulness is now about to cease among us. 

Resolved^ That the thanks of this society be presented to him for his 
uniform kindness toward us personally and his untiring efforts for our spir- 
itual welfare. 

Resolved, That we shall keep in lasting remembrance the earnest and 
eloquent appeals of our pastor to us for our everlasting good. 

Resolved, That in taking leave we present to him our united and affec- 
tionate desires that his health may be restored, and a long and useful life 
be vouchsafed to him, and that when he shall be called to leave all earthly 
things that he shall be greeted with the joyful words, " Well done, good 
and faithful servant." 

Lemuel Cobb, \ 

Edwin Fernald, \ Committee. 

Charles Davidson, ) 



Dr. Champlin removed to Waterville, September 8, 1841, 
and entered upon what proved to be his life-work, succeed- 
ing in his professorship the late Phinehas Barnes. Water- 
ville was then a remote country village on the stage line 
between Augusta and Bangor. For twenty years the col- 
lege had struggled with poverty, and as yet only the begin- 
nings of a collegiate institution had been made. It was still 
the day of small things. The endowment was small, the 
equipment was small, the salaries were small, and the classes 
were small. But the institution had a strong corps of in- 
structors. Three of them. Dr. G. W. Keely, professor of 
mathematics and natural philosophy, Dr. J. R. Loomis, after- 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 7 

ward for twenty years president of Lewisburg, now Buck- 
nell University, professor of chemistry and natural history, 
and Dr. Champlin, professor of Greek and Latin, were grad- 
uates of Brown University. Loomis and ChampHn, who 
were pupils of Dr. Wayland, had imbibed his spirit and 
adopted his methods; and this last was also true of Pro- 
fessor Keely, who was a tutor at Brown in the first year of 
Dr. Wayland's presidency. In 1843, Rev. David N. Shel- 
don succeeded Eliphaz Fay as president of the college. At 
the same time, Martin B. Anderson, a graduate of the col- 
lege, and afterward president of Rochester University, was 
made professor of rhetoric. These all were men of intel- 
lectual strength, and by their ability and sound scholarship 
they gave to the college a reputation which it%ad not before 
secured. 

Early in his connection with the college Professor Champ- 
lin felt the need of a better edition of "Demosthenes on the 
Crown " than the one by Negris, in use at that time. Gath- 
ering around him the best helps he could obtain, he devoted 
himself untiringly to his task, availing himself of the en- 
couras:ement and criticism of his interested associates. The 
work was finished and published in 1843, and immediately 
came into use in many of our American colleges. A review 
of the work, by Professor Felton of Harvard College pre- 
sumably, appeared in the "North American Review" for 
January, 1844 (pages 240-243). After indicating what is re- 
quired in a good critical edition of this " most valuable and 
interesting among all the remains of Attic eloquence," 
the reviewer said : — 

These conditions have been ably fulfilled by the present editor. The 
text he has presented is a great improvement upon that of Mr. Negris. It 



8 JAMES TIFT CHAMP LIN. 

is fairly printed, and on good paper; the only fault to be found with this 
part of the work is a number of typographical errors in that portion of the 
text which accidentally was deprived of the benefit of the editor's revision. 
A well written preface explains the editor's plan, and states the sources 
from which he has drawn his chief materials. This is followed by a copi- 
ous analysis, embracing a general sketch of the plan of the oration, and 
then a careful enumeration of the topics, paragraph by paragraph, as they 
are successively handled by the orator. This analysis is carefully and 
accurately executed, and will be of material advantage to the student for 
understanding the orator's arrangement. The text is followed by a body 
of notes, containing ample explanations of legal terms and technical for- 
mulas, historical facts comprehended in the political life of the orator, and 
careful analyses of the difficult passages. The best authorities have been 
freely consulted, and the information they contain judiciously combined. 
Hermann's excellent "Manual of Political Antiquities," and Thirwall's 
learned and impartial "History of Greece," have been constantly used. 
We approve the plan of this edition, and think the execution of it faithful 
and able. The work is a valuable addition to the series of classical books 
published in the United States. 

Professor Champlin's edition of the " Oration on the 
Crown" passed through many editions, and for more than 
thirty years was the text-book generally in use in American 
colleges in the study of this masterly oration. 

Other classical works followed. In 1848, Professor 
Champlin published "Select Popular Orations of Demos- 
thenes"; in 1849, a translation of Kiihner's Latin Gram- 
mar, from the German; in 1850, an edition of the Oration 
of ^schines on the Crown; in 1852, a " Short and Com- 
prehensive Greek Grammar." In 1855, in recognition of 
his scholarly worth, the University of Rochester conferred 
upon Professor Champlin the honorary degree of Doctor of 
Divinity. 

In 1857, on the resignation of President Pattison, he was 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 9 

elected president of the college and professor of moral and 
intellectual philosophy. The difficulties of the position he 
clearly recognized. In his inaugural address, delivered 
Tuesday afternoon, August lo, 1858, he said: — 

Knowing full well, as I do, the history and condition of the college, I do 
not regard the office as a sinecure. Following a succession of able and 
learned men, and entering upon my duties at an important crisis in the his- 
tory of the institution, I see nothing but labor and responsibility before 
me ; and in these, indeed, I find my chief incitement. Whatever may be 
the illusions of youth in this matter, one at length learns that labor is less 
irksome than leisure, and responsibility more inspiring than a state of easy, 
quiet security. A fair field for the exertion of one's powers, the opportu- 
nity of doing something for the higher interests of society, the hope of 
giving greater efficiency to an important instrumentality, the consciousness 
that a large circle of interested spectators are watching the workings of a 
new arrangement, are among the more powerful and wholesome incitements 
which can be addressed to the human mind. 

Such motives seem to me to exist in all their power in the present case. 
I admit the responsibility of the position. I welcome the labor, and hope 
to be able to approve myself to the friends of the institution as a faithful 
servant, whether successful or not. Indeed, I see much to encourage in 
the case. With a highly eligible situation, with a respectable number of 
interesting and interested students, with an increasing band of alumni to 
advocate our interests wherever they go, and a large constituency of 
friends, who, I trust, will show themselves ready, when the call is made — 
as it must be soon — to supply the only great need of the institution, " ma- 
terial aid," I cannot but feel that there is no ground for discouragement 
Certain it is that if Waterville College, in its present state of maturity, and 
with its acknowledged advantages of situation, etc., does not for the future 
make reasonable progress, it will be either from the want of proper man- 
agement here, or for the want of proper co-operation and support among 
its friends. Let us hope that neither will be wanting, that the designs of 
Providence in planting the institution may not be frustrated. 

In the spirit of these noble words, recognizing fully the 
obstacles to be overcome. Dr. Champlin entered vigorously 



10 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



and intelligently upon his new task. Waterville College, in 
1857, had three buildings, very much out of repair, and an 
invested fund of about twelve or fifteen thousand dollars. 
To increase this fund was a matter of present urgent neces- 
sity, and in 1859, Rev. Horace T. Love was employed by 
the college for this purpose. He succeeded in obtaining 
subscriptions to the amount of twenty-five thousand dollars, 
and then relinquished his agency. The work was soon 
taken up by President Champlin and other members of the 
faculty, but their self-denying efforts were not crowned with 
great success. National affairs, to the exclusion of other 
things, attracted the attention and demanded the energies of 
the people. 

But in the third year of the civil war, when in Boston one 
day, Dr. Champlin learned from the late Jonah G. Warren, 
D.D., then corresponding secretary of the Missionary Union, 
that Gardner Colby of Newton, some of whose early years 
were spent in Winslow and Waterville, and whose mother 
Dr. Chaplin, the first president of the college, had be- 
friended, was meditating generous purposes toward Water- 
ville College. Dr. Champlin called on him at once, and 
the result was that Mr. Colby attended the commencement 
of the college in August that year. On commencement 
day Dr. Champlin received from Mr. Colby the follow- 
ing note: — 

Waterville, Aug. 10, 1864. 
Rev. J. T. Champlin, d.d., 

My Dear Sir: — I propose to give Waterville College the sum of fifty 
thousand dollars ($50,000), the same to be paid without interest as follows, 
viz. : — 

Twenty-five thousand dollars when your subscriptions shall amount to 
one hundred thousand dollars, independent of any from me. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. H 

Twenty-five thousand dollars when one hundred thousand is paid on your 
subscriptions, not including any from me ; and upon the condition that the 
president, and a majority of the faculty, shall be members in good standing 
of regular Baptist churches. 

If either or any of these conditions are broken, the entire fifty thousand 
dollars shall revert to myself, or my heirs or assigns. I remain, 

Yours very truly, 

Gardner Colby. 

The contents of this note were made known to the alumni 
and friends of the college at the commencement dinner. 
Rev. F. W. Bakeman, d.d., who was then a student in the 
college, and as one of the marshals of the day was present at 
the dinner in the old town hall, has given a graphic account 
of the scene when the announcement of this proposed gift 
was made : — 

Dr. Champlin arose and stood a brief pause, as if to command the un- 
reserved attention of the company. How pale he looked ! How strangely 
his voice seemed to shake as he spoke ! There were no tears in his eyes, 
but there was what makes tears in his utterance. As long as I live I shall 
recall the grand old man in that historic hour, which was to him the vic- 
tor's crown, after years of hardest warfare. And now the announcement 
was given that the gentleman at his side, a short, plump little man, with a 
benevolent appearing face, who might have been taken for one of the 
Cheeryble brothers, had made the definite and formal proposition to give 
the college the sum of fifty thousand dollars as a permanent fund, on con- 
dition that the friends of the institution should add one hundred thousand. 
The announcement ran through that company like a kindling fire. Mr. 
Colby was known to few ; his intention was known to fewer still. The ru- 
mor had not got abroad. It was a genuine surprise. For a moment there 
was stillness, as in the hush before the breaking of the tempest — and 
then — there was a tempest — a wild demonstration of joy and glad sur- 
prise, such as I have never since witnessed. Hands, feet, voices, knives 
and forks rapping on the tables, all bore a part in the concert of applause. 
Men shook hands, and fairly hugged each other in their transports of joy. 



12 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



Such unfeigned delight is seldom seen. The hall rang again and again to 
their cheers. It seemed as if they would never stop. The fountains of 
affection had been broken up, and their torrents could not be easily 
checked. Never from that day have I questioned the devotion of Colby's 
alumni. Fifty thousand dollars does not seem so great now as it did then. 
For Waterville, under the circumstances, that sum was a princely fortune. 
But there was more than this in consideration. Men saw that this dona- 
tion meant one hundred and fifty thousand dollars of endowment. They 
had faith to believe that it would be raised. In this glad hour the long- 
needed inspiration had come, and all things were now possible. Men 
realized instinctively that on this auspicious day a new era had begun for 
our long-struggling institution. This hour marked an epoch. Meanwhile, 
through all this storm of applause, the Cheeryble brother, who was its 
beneficent cause, sat blushingly. To the clamorous calls of his name he 
made a brief response, no word of which can I recall. The facts of that 
day crowded out words. What Mr. Colby felt on that occasion no man 
can know, I have often thought that ten years of life would be a small 
price for the experience of so blissful an hour. Finally the doxology was 
sung, and the commencement of 1864 was over \ the night-time in the his- 
tory of Waterville College was ended, and morning had come to Colby 
University. 

In raising the one hundred thousand dollars required in 
order to secure Mr. Colby's conditional gift, Dr. Champlin 
performed heroic service, as did some of his colleagues ; 
and the money was at length obtained. Then, in 1866, at 
Dr. Champlin's suggestion, and entirely without any under- 
standing with Mr. Colby, the trustees voted to apply to the 
legislature of the state for an act changing the name of the 
college to Colby University; and the act was passed Janu- 
ary 23, 1867. 

The college now entered upon an era of prosperity. 
Added funds came into its treasury for building purposes. 
Memorial Hall, costing about forty thousand dollars, was 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 13 

erected ; Coburn Hall, costing more than twenty-five thou- 
sand dollars, followed ; then the old chapel was remodeled 
at an expense of six thousand dollars, and the North Col- 
lege at an expense of eight thousand five hundred dollars. 
And yet in 1872, when these improvements had been made 
and paid for, the invested funds of the college had increased 
to two hundred thousand dollars. Of the money thus ex- 
pended or invested, Dr. Champlin obtained (directly or indi- 
rectly) and collected nearly two hundred thousand dollars ; 
and as chairman of the prudential committee he had the 
entire oversight of the above-named improvements, and the 
chief direction of the investment of the college funds. 

During this period of upbuilding and endowing the 
college, Dr. Champlin prosecuted his studies '%\\\\ old-time 
vigor. When he became president of the college he de- 
voted himself to the duties of his professorship of moral 
and intellectual philosophy with the same interest with 
which he had hitherto devoted himself to the Latin and 
Greek classics. He soon published an edition of " Butler's 
Analogy and Ethical Discourses." This was followed, in 
i860, by "A Text Book on Intellectual Philosophy"; in 
1 861, by his " First Principles of Ethics"; and in 1868, by 
his *' Lessons on Political Economy." These works passed 
through successive editions, and were used as text-books in 
other colleges. But, as the late Mr. H. W. Richardson, edi- 
tor of the Portland Daily Advertiser, and a pupil of Dr. 
Champlin, said : — 

The service which Dr. Champlin rendered to the college and to his gen- 
eration is not measured or even indicated by a list of his published works. 
He was not merely, or even primarily, a literary man. He was pre-emi- 
nently a man of affairs — - a man who would naturally have become a great 



14 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



merchant or a successful politician. His tendencies were all practical. 
He edited Greek and Latin text-books because in the place where he 
found himself that was the thing to do. When he left the professorship of 
ancient languages he turned to other studies without regret, and with the 
same industry and sound appreciation of the requirements of his new 
position. 

August 2, 1870, in connection with the annual commence- 
ment, President Champlin delivered an historical discourse, 
it being the fiftieth anniversary of the college. Having 
reviewed the history of the college, he closed with these 
words : — 

Standing now, as we do, at the middle point of the first century of the 
existence of the institution, whether we look backward or forward, have we 
not reason to thank God and take courage ? The college has been useful ; 
the university, I have no doubt, is destined to a still higher usefulness. 
The foundations are already laid, and well laid, and the superstructure, I 
am confident, will gradually rise in fitting beauty and proportions. It will 
have a history to be -recounted, I have no doubt, at the close of another 
half-century. And as the centuries roll on, chapter after chapter will have 
to be added to this history, till some future generation, looking back over 
its whole course, and estimating the influence which has gone forth from 
it to bless the world, will come to realize, if we do not now, how great a 
boon to a community is a Christian institution of learning, established and 
sustained and nurtured up to a high purpose by the prayers, the labors and 
the contributions of the wise and good. 

Dr. Champlin now felt that his work, as president of the 
college, was done, and at the commencement in July, 1872, 
he asked to be relieved of the burden he had carried so 
long. By request of the trustees he remained at his post a 
year longer. When he then retired from the service of the 
college, Colby University had an invested fund of two hun- 
dred and fourteen thousand dollars, and no debts. He had 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 15 

been connected with the college thirty-two years, one-half of 
the time as professor and one-half of the time as president. 

The trustees of the university, in accepting Dr. Champ- 
lin's resignation, adopted the following resolution : — 

Resolved^ That in accepting his resignation, the Board of Trustees would 
express their gratitude to Dr. Champlin for the long-continued, diligent 
and laborious services which he has rendered as an instructor, and for the 
singular devotedness to the general interests and welfare of the university 
which he has uniformly manifested ; and that, in retiring from the office of 
the presidenc}'^, he will bear with him the friendship and good wishes of 
this Board. 

In i860, Brown University conferred upon Dr. Champlin 
the honorary degree of Doctor of Divinity, and in 1872, 
when he resigned the presidency, Colby University conferred 
upon him the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws. 

It was Dr. Champlin's purpose upon his retirement from 
the college, to spend his remaining years in Waterville; but 
three of his children were living in Portland, and family ties 
soon drew him thither. He removed to Portland in April, 
1874, and here, among his books, and surrounded by those 
whom he loved, he passed the closing years of a useful and 
busy life. In 1875, he was made a trustee of Colby Univer- 
sity. Continuing his literary labors, he prepared a volume 
of " Bible Selections for Family Reading." Then, returning 
to his classical studies, he prepared a volume of "Selections 
from Tacitus," which he published in 1876. In 1880, he 
published a work on the Constitution of the United States. 

Of his minor publications the following are worthy of 
mention: — In 1846, Dr. Champlin preached a sermon be- 
fore the Maine Baptist Convention at Brunswick, entitled 
"Apollos the Preacher," which was published by the con- 



16 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

vention. He published also the following review arti- 
cles: — "Popular Lecturing," Christian Review, April, 1850; 
"Grote's History of Greece," Christian Review, October, 
1 851; "Bishop Butler," Christian Review, July, 1854; 
" Hume's Philosophy," Christian Review, April, 1855 ; 
"Moral Philosophy," Christian Review, April, i860; "Pro- 
tection and Free Trade," Baptist Quarterly, October, 1873; 
and " Psychology," Baptist Quarterly, April, 1874. June 24, 
1856, he delivered an address before the Society of Mis- 
sionary Inquiry of Newton Theological Institution, on "Re- 
ligion and Philanthropy." March 14, 1878, he read a paper 
before the Maine Historical Society, entitled " Educational 
Institutions in Maine while a District of Massachusetts," 
which is included in volume viii of the society's collec- 
tions. He also frequently accepted invitations to deliver 
addresses before educational societies, teachers' conventions, 
lyceums, etc. 

In 1872, at the annual meeting of the Maine Baptist Edu- 
cation Society at Bath, it was voted, on motion of Dr. 
Champlin, " That it is expedient that an effort be made to 
endow Waterville Classical Institute, by starting a subscrip- 
tion, to raise for it a fund of fifty thousand dollars." At the 
meeting of the same society in 1873, a committee was ap- 
pointed to confer with the trustees of Colby University in 
reference to this matter. One of the results of that confer- 
ence was the passage of resolutions by the Board of Trus- 
tees, recommending " That an effort be made to raise one 
hundred thousand dollars at the earliest day practicable, for 
the endowment of three preparatory schools, one of which 
shall be located at Waterville, one at some place in the east- 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 17 

erii section of the state, and one in the "western section." 
At the meeting of the Education Society in 1874, it was 
announced that ex-Governor Coburn had offered to give 
fifty thousand dollars for the endowment of Waterville Clas- 
sical Institute, provided fifty thousand dollars additional 
should be raised for the endowment of the other proposed 
schools. Rev. A. R. Crane undertook the work of raising 
this fifty thousand dollars, and the money, when secured, 
was committed to the trustees of Colby University for the 
benefit of Hebron Academy and Houlton Academy (now 
Ricker Classical Institute), as was Governor Coburn's gift 
for the benefit of Waterville Classical Institute (now Coburn 
Classical Institute, in memory of Hon. Stephen Coburn and 
his son, Charles M. Coburn). Dr. Champlin took a very 
deep interest in the endowment of these preparatory schools, 
and in 1878, when the subscription had been completed, he 
prepared a plan for organizing the department of academies, 
which was adopted by the trustees of Colby University. 

One of his last efforts for the orood of others was in be- 
half of the church in Portland, of which he was once pastor. 
In the great fire in that city, in 1866, the First Baptist 
Church lost its house of worship. More than ninety fami- 
lies connected with the church were made homeless by the 
destructive flames. In rebuilding, a debt was incurred 
larger than was anticipated. The burden thus assumed was 
heroically borne, but its weight at length was sev.erely felt. 
Dr. Champlin, on returning to Portland, had united with the 
Free Street Church, which was nearer his residence ; but he 
had lost none of his affection for the old church to which 
he had ministered at the beginning of his public career, and 
3 



18 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

he desired to see at least a part of this burden of debt re- 
moved. Accordingly, in 1880, he invited some of the mem- 
bers of the church to a conference, at which he said he 
thought ten thousand dollars could be raised if an effort 
should be made, and offered to give one thousand himself. 
At the last communion season which he was able to attend 
at the Free Street Church, he referred to the oppressive debt 
resting upon the First Church, and urged his associates to 
help the mother church in this time of need. The Free 
Street Church generously responded. The brethren and 
friends at the First Church, as always, responded to this 
new call heartily and with much self-sacrifice. In other 
places friends of the church nobly aided, and in a short 
time nearly ten thousand, seven hundred dollars were ob- 
tained ; the remaining debt, about nine thousand dollars, 
was refunded at a lower rate of interest, and the First 
Church entered upon a new stage in its history, encouraged 
and strengthened. 

Only one shadow rested upon Dr. Champlin during these 
closing years of his life. November 24, 1875, his only 
daughter, Mrs. Caroline C. Burrage, dearly beloved, was sud- 
denly and unexpectedly taken from the home circle. Sub- 
missively he bowed his head ; and though his words were 
few, yet all could see that for him the rest of the way in life 
was through the valley of the shadow of death. 

He was last in Waterville at the commencement in 1879. 
The privilege of meeting with his old associates and pupils 
he greatly enjoyed. They received him with enthusiasm, 
and he rejoiced with them in the evidences of the growing 
influence and prosperity of the college. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



19 



In May, 1880, he attended the national Baptist anniversa- 
ries at Saratoga, but the extreme heat of anniversary week 
affected him, and he hastened back to Portland. " I am 
confident that this is paralysis," he said, as feebly he came 
up the steps of his home in the early morning of his arrival. 
He remained in his study during the day, and at night, on 
retiring, he ascended the staircase unaided. When he 
awoke the next morning his right side was paralyzed. 

At the commencement at Colby University in July fol- 
lowing, at the annual meeting of the alumni, the class of 
1855 presented the following preamble and resolution, which 
were adopted by a rising vote : — 

Whereas^ We learn that, in the Providence of God, Rev. Dr. Champlin, 
for many years a professor in Waterville College, and l%ter the esteemed 
and venerated president-of the university, has been suddenly stricken by 
disease, and is now lying in a comparatively helpless condition of bodily 
infirmity. 

Resolved^ That we hereby express our heartfelt sorrow in view of this 
affliction laid upon one whom we regard with feelings of profound respect 
and sincere affection. As those who have been immeasurably indebted to 
him for instruction and counsel in former years, and who have learned 
something of the geniality of his nature by the intercourse of friendship 
and of social life, we desire to tender to him our earnest sympathy, accom- 
panied by a fervent prayer that God would bless the means employed for 
his restoration, and so extend his useful life that he may continue to be a 
benefactor to this institution which he has so tenderly cherished, and for 
which he has so zealously labored. 

Dr. Champlin slowly improved during the summer months, 
and several times he rode out a short distance; but the effort 
was too great, and he did not leave the house again during 
his illness. His mind remained unclouded until about a 
month before his death. He often expressed a fear that in 



20 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



the progress of his disease reason would at length fail him, 
and that he would then become a burden to his family. 
While he was thus laid aside, Dr. Shailer, pastor of the First 
Church, with whom he had long been associated in different 
relations, suddenly died; and when the tidings were borne to 
his sick chamber, he said he counted Dr. Shailer happy in 
that so suddenly and so peacefully he had been transferred 
to the better land. Yet no murmur escaped his lips during 
those long and weary months. Quietly, trustfully, he 
awaited the end. Talking to himself on his bed one day, 
he was asked what he was talking about. He replied, " Po- 
litical science ; the importance of Christianity to the world ; 
and Tacitus — how I should like to teach it again! My 
Tacitus is the best book I have written, I think." During 
the last month of his life, after his mind became clouded, it 
was noticeable that it remained clear in reference to matters 
pertaining to the college, and most pathetic was his appeal 
one day, when in his delirium, imagining himself away from 
home, he asked to be taken back to Waterville, where he 
had labored so long and so well. He did not wish to sur- 
vive the loss of reason, and in this his desire was mercifully 
granted. On Tuesday night, March 14, 1882, he did not 
rest as well as usual. He said he was tired, and as the night 
wore away he asked if it was almost morning. About five 
o'clock Wednesday, March 15, the nurse noticed that his 
breathing was short and quick. His wife was at once sum- 
moned, but when she reached the bedside she found that he 
had ceased to breathe ; so suddenly and so easily, after long 
months of suffering and weariness, he had entered into the 
rest that remaineth to the people of God. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



21 



Beside Mrs. Champlin, three children survived him : — 
James P. Champlin, Augustus Champlin, and Frank A. 
Champlin, all of Portland. 

The funeral services occurred at the Free Street Church, 
on Saturday afternoon, March i8. It was Dr. Champlin's 
wish that his successor in the presidency at Waterville, Rev. 
Henry E. Robins, d.d., should be present, and participate in 
the services, but his health did not permit, and reluctantly he 
was compelled to remain at home. " I have a deep appreci- 
ation of Dr. Champlin's services to the college," he wrote. 
" He rendered possible whatever success I have been able to 
achieve." Nearly all of the alumni and the trustees of the 
university residing in Portland and vicinity were present. 
Hon. Percival Bonney, Prof. Edward W. Hall o^ Colby Uni- 
versity, Hanson M. Hart, Esq., and Hon. Neal Dow, were 
the pall bearers. The casket, in front of the pulpit, was sur- 
rounded with beautiful floral emblems, including a broken 
column, cross^nd crown, sickle and sheaf. A vase of flow- 
ers on a stand at the foot of the casket was from the resi- 
dent alumni of the university. 

At the opening of the service the choir sang " Rest in the 
Lord." Rev. T. D. Anderson, jr., pastor of the First Bap- 
tist Church, read selections from the Scriptures. Addresses 
were then made by Rev. James McWhinnie, Professor 
Moses Lyford of Colby University, and General J. L. Cham- 
berlain, President of Bowdoin College. 

REV. J. McWHINNIE'S ADDRESS. 

As his pastor, it falls to me first, in this last service, to speak of our 
brother, James Tift Champlin, who for the past eight years has been a 
faithful member of the Free Street Baptist Church. 



22 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

Born in the same state, I had often heard of him as a son of Connecti- 
cut, honoring his native commonwealth as the able and successful presi- 
dent of Waterville College. I had met the graduates of the college in the 
seminary and elsewhere, and from them had become interested in his char- 
acter before I had seen him, and when it was not in all my dreams that I 
should ever become his pastor. When I came to Portland at the call of 
the church, it was with considerable apprehension I learned that Dr. 
Champlin was a member of it, and that if I accepted the call I must 
assume the position of his religious shepherd and teacher. But, to my 
relief, the Doctor was one of the first to greet me and to offer me his help 
and sympathy. Most kindly, generously, he fulfilled the pledge he freely 
offered. The seven years of this relation, in many respects intimate and 
confidential, have seen not a single word or deed on his part to mar their 
harmony. He has sometimes advised or corrected me, but not so often as 
I wished ; for when he came to me it was always so kindly as to charm me, 
almost so deferentially as to make me wonder. He was a generous hearer, 
overlooking mistakes, not lavish in words of praise, but always listening 
for and rejoicing in the truths of the Gospel. 

On coming to Portland in 1874, Dr. Champlin was returning to the 
scene of his first labors and successes in the state. In 1838, while still a 
young man, he became pastor of the First Baptist Church, which position 
he retained for more than three years. For himself and the church these 
were happy years. He was permitted the joy of welcoming to the church 
nearly one hundred members, most of them upon profession of their faith 
in Christ. Many of these remain until this day. Many others preceded 
him to the church triumphant. With these he now knows the meaning of 
Paul's jubilant words, " What is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing ? 
Are not even ye in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming.-"' 
In consequence of an affection of the throat, aggravated by preaching, 
he was compelled to resign the pastorate August 23, 1841, when he re- 
moved to Waterville. He left the church a strong and united body, with 
nearly three hundred members, well fitted for the influential position it 
has since maintained. 

Returning to the scene of these early labors with a national reputation 
as a wise and successful college president, honored by scholars throughout 
the land, many of whom were his pupils, esteemed by his brethren in the 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



23 



ministry and in all the churches, he yet found no difficulty in settling down 
into the quiet and comparative obscurity of his Portland life. I venture 
to say nothing has more won the respect of those who knew him in these 
high places of usefulness than the graceful and childlike humility of his 
later years- Not a vestige of bitterness marked his speech or conduct. 
The successful pastor, the college president, the denominational leader 
and counselor, became at once the faithful, helpful layman, always in his 
place in church, regular in the prayer-meeting as his health permitted, 
often leading our devotions, and testifying in the simplest manner to the 
truth and power of the Gospel. After his health forbade his attendance at 
the meetings of the church, his interest in them remained unabated ; and 
when any new case of inquiry or conversion was reported, it was to him 
always a cause of thanksgiving. 

Two years ago next month Dr. Champlin felt impressed that he must 
carry out a purpose which he had long cherished. The First Baptist 
Church, his former flock, was heavily burdened with debt, ^n inheritance 
of the great fire, which had not only destroyed their house of worship, but 
impoverished many of their members. This debt, in spite of every exer- 
tion and sacrifice, had become well-nigh fatal to the prosperity of the 
church. Our brother resolved to help them and to summon others to their 
aid. He took into his counsels a generous brother of this church, and 
together they pledged two thousand dollars. With this amount he came 
before his brethren at the next communion, and urged the need of the 
mother church, and the duty of aiding them in one more strong effort to 
raise ten thousand dollars of their debt. The effort was successful, and the 
church was lifted from its state of discouragement to one of assured con- 
fidence for the future. 

This was the last of our brother's earthly work. It was his last com- 
munion with the church. In a few weeks, while at Saratoga attending the 
national anniversaries of the denomination, he was stricken with incipient 
paralysis. Returning home, he became more and more, but almost imper- 
ceptibly, a victim of the disease. During the greater part of the time 
since his mind has retained its clearness and strength, and his interest in 
the college, the church and affairs has been undiminished. He has read 
much of general literature, but his constant companion was his New Tes- 
tament, which he loved most of all, and of which it was his delight to 



24 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

speak. Among his latest works was a volume of " Scriptural Selections for 
Family Worship," accompanied with explanatory and practical comments. 
Thus his life-work began and ended with the exposition of the Word of 
God, the deep, pure well of divine wisdom and truth. 

I need not dwell upon his character and private life ; they were such as 
became a teacher of learning, a preacher of righteousness, a disciple of 
Christ. Imperfect he was indeed. No man was more conscious of his 
imperfections or more sincerely mourned over his faults ; but his life and 
character present no blot or stain to be covered up or apologized for. If 
he was just with others he was severe with himself ; and those who knew 
him best soon discovered the kindness of heart beneath his stern demeanor. 
It is the testimony of many who at first feared him, that before they parted 
with him they loved him as a father. And none will cherish his memory 
more dearly than the graduates of the college who have seen him and 
known him in these last years of his life. 

It was plain to us all that our friend entered into the valley of the 
shadow so long ago as November, 1875, when the dear daughter, who 
had been such a comfort and stay, was translated from his home. It was 
then he said to me in the deepest anguish, "The joy of our heart is 
ceased." From that time his step was feebler and his eye more dim. He 
still retained his habits of study and composition ; but it was daily plainer 
to his friends that the silver cord was loosed and the pitcher breaking at 
the fountain. The later stroke of disease was only a lower descent into 
the valley, where at last he has quietly laid aside his labors and entered 
into rest. He now sees the King in his beauty, and seeing him as he is, 
is transformed into the same image from glory to glory. 

When the Lord told his disciples that he must leave them, he said, 
" None of you asketh me, whither goest thou ? But because I have said 
these things sorrow hath filled your hearts." To those who remain in sor- 
row to-day I commend the thought of the happiness of the husband and 
father now released from earth's care and pain, already entered upon the 
life of pure and holy service, of far higher attainment in knowledge, of the 
perfection of spiritual beauty, of blessed reunion with the loved ones gone 
before. I commend the hope of a joyful resurrection, the consummation 
of the Christian's faith. Thanks be to God who giveth us the victory 
through our Lord Jesus Christ. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 25 

PROFESSOR LYFORD's ADDRESS. 

Entering college in 1839, I had completed about one-half of my course 
when Dr. Champlin came to Waterville as a professor. I knew him as my 
teacher for two years. What I knew of him is and has been known by all 
who have been under his instruction. I need not dwell upon it ; it has 
already been alluded to in the remarks that have been made. Sometimes 
college students, on their first approach to Dr. Champlin, felt that he was 
stern, and not easily approached ; but I can bear witness to what has 
already been said, and to what can be testified to by so many others, that 
the nearer we got to him the more warmth we found ; and very few stu- 
dents ever went through the college and graduated who did not leave it 
without profoundly reverencing him and loving him. 

After an absence of thirteen years, from 1843 to 1856, I became associ- 
ated with him as a member of the faculty. For one year following he 
occupied his place as professor, and I stood on the same level with him. 
For sixteen years after that I looked up to him as the honoi%d head of the 
institution. The more I saw of him the better I knew him, and the more 
I loved and respected him. 

Associated together as a half-a-dozen of us were for that length of time, 
we had opportunities for knowing him better than if we had been associ- 
ated in larger numbers. We were brought very closely together during 
those sixteen years, and some who are here may be aware that such rela- 
tions are not always the most pleasant. There have been cases where it 
was otherwise. But I am very much gratified to be able to stand here and 
have nothing to conceal, and nothing whatever to reserve. Every remem- 
brance of that sixteen years is pleasant. 

Dr. Champlin was a man you could trust. That is saying more than at 
first might seem. Those of this audience who have lived the longest know 
best what it means. We never suspected him of anything he did not put 
forth. He was an honest man, a noble-hearted man, a generous-souled 
man in every respect, at all times and under all circumstances. ' I know 
that is saying much, but it is deserved. 

We knew him at Waterville not only as a member of the college faculty, 
not only as president of the college, but in the social meetings. We knew 
him everywhere where good could be done by a man occupying his posi- 
tion. He was not an impulsive man, yet he did not wait for people to urge 
4 



26 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

him forward. His inquiry seemed to be first of all, " What can I do, what 
ought I to do ? " and when satisfied of that he did it in the best way he 
could. I do not think he could ever have said, as do some persons, after 
having performed a duty which devolved upon him, no matter how sud- 
denly, that he had disgraced himself by not doing it better. He always 
did the best he could, and left the result to Him to whom he owed the 
duty. He was a man in all respects, everywhere, and under all circum- 
stances. He always seemed to think more of soul than of semblance, 
more of man than manner. I think it may safely be said that the longer 
we cherish his memory, in whatever capacity we have known him, in what- 
ever relations we have sustained to him, the greener it will grow. 

PRESIDENT chamberlain's ADDRESS. 

A man has passed away from us whose work abides and will abide. We 
come here to-day to bid adieu to this venerated form, and to renew our 
memories of him, of his work, of his life and of his love. We meet to 
make him even more to us hereafter than before. I come also to stand 
here with you, and mingle my tributes with yours. To the man who loved 
his country, his state, and the community in which he lived, and who la- 
bored for them with his best, I offer the salutations, may I say, of a fel 
low-citizen. To the scholar, to the strong and strenuous man in the cause 
of education, to the maker of books, to the instructor of youth, the college 
which I represent offers a sincere and affectionate tribute. 

I had met our dear friend perhaps but little, considering that in his 
broad, generous heart he was so willing to consider me so much a friend ; 
but the occasions on which we had met, and the relations we sustained to 
each other on those several occasions, revealed us to each other, perhaps, 
in a manner that drew us together in a peculiar way. I first knew him 
when he was laboring so zealously to build up his college, our college, the 
college of the state, the college of the country, and the college of Chris- 
tianity. I sympathized with him in that, and I remember he thought it 
worth his while to consult me as to changing the name of that venerable 
institutior;. I was not a graduate, but as a citizen of the state I hesitated 
about having the old familiar name of the college changed ; and then I 
saw, in the reasons he gave me, the wide and profound views he took of the 
influences and means by which institutions of learning must be built up. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 27 

That was the beginning of our acquaintance, which rapidly grew to friend- 
ship. I was made a welcome guest in his home more than once, and he 
has honored my home with his presence. It came to be almost a custom 
with him to visit our college annually, and I often saw him at the meetings 
of the Historical Society. Lately we had some conversations together 
upon the preparation of his work on Constitutional Law, and then I had 
occasion to see and appreciate the broad and loyal patriotism of the man, 
and the soundness and clearness of his views as to those great questions 
which belong to the foundation of our institutions and our government. 

Thus I have seen our dear friend in different relations, and from each 
successive step of approach to each other I have honored him, and raised 
him higher and higher in my thoughts, and taken him nearer to my heart. 

I wish I were able to say the things which still might be said with truth, 
things other than those which have been brought before us this afternoon. 
But I must, dear friends, be allowed to speak of the remarkable industry 
and energy of our friend. I have had occasion to know something of the 
work he was doing for his college, but how he could at t^ same time he 
was doing so much to found the institution financially, arrange to put forth 
so many books, evincing thorough scholarship and hard work, I cannot 
understand. I regard it as an example, one indeed I had almost said 
which rather discourages than encourages us, for how can we follow, how 
can we reach to those heights which he seemed so easily to achieve .-' The 
thought of it almost rebukes me, and makes me feel that I have done lit- 
tle in comparison. 

The work he did for the college abides in more ways than one. It has 
been said that the institution is a monument to him. Those who know its 
history know how true that is. But beyond books, and beyond college 
walls of brick and stone, and beyond even the words of instruction in the 
class-room, there is a mighty power which the true educator wields, and it 
is that of influence. I think in a college, for example, it is more the influ- 
ence of the man than the books he may have written, or the words of in- 
struction he may have uttered, which works on the minds and character of 
his pupils. The strongest feature in education, it seems to me, is influ- 
ence. Now, our friend's true, strong, generous and noble character I am 
very sure must have impressed those who met him from time to time, as it 
impressed me. I owe him a debt of that kind. The influence of his char- 



28 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



acler, of the man he was, fell into my spirit, I know, like good seed. 
When I know how many there must be in the community and all over the 
world in whom lives to-day the effect of the influence of our friend's char- 
acter, I say his work abides in a different sense from the monument of 
brick and stone which he has left behind. He lives, dear friends, in our 
hearts, and his spirit abides with us. How then can we wholly bid him 
farewell ? We do not. It is almost, as I said at the beginning, like a 
greeting, like a salutation we make to that image of him which exists in 
all of us who knew him, an image which we must respect and love and 
venerate. 

God help us worthily to follow those influences^ worthily to cherish and 
nurture those good seeds of sound doctrine, of noble character, of true 
Christianity, which he has cast abroad. 

I must nor detain you longer ; I know how weak and unworthy of him 
my poor words seem to you j but I lay here the chaplet of dearest memo- 
ries and affections. These flowers, emblems of beauty and immortality, 
are not more sweet than the thoughts and loving memories which are 
linked with him. 

At the close of the addresses the choir sang " Only Wait," 
and Rev. Asa Dalton of St. Stephen's Church offered a fer- 
vent prayer. After the benediction by Rev. James McWhin- 
nie, the alumni and friends took a farewell look at the de- 
ceased, and the burial at Evergreen Cemetery followed. 

Two tributes, from men long and intimately associated 
with Dr. Champlin in educational and religious work in 
Maine, are added. The first is from a letter written by Rev. 
S. K. Smith, d.d., the senior professor in Colby University, 
and dated March i6, 1882: — 

We shall all feel deeply the death of Dr. Champlin. He came to 
Waterville as professor when I entered Colby as student in 1841. I knew 
and honored him as my teacher, and was associated with him also as an 
instructor for twenty-five years, and during all this period I saw in Dr. 
Champlin one character, and that was a character of unswerving, invinc- 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 29 

ible integrity. He was true to his convictions and true to every relation of 
his life. He no doubt made mistakes, but I believe he was entirely inca- 
pable of doing a conscious wrong to a fellow-being. During his presi- 
dency here what particularly struck those who were connected with him 
was the complete subordination and hiding of his own personal interests 
beneath the broader interests of the College. During the fifteen years of 
that arduous and overburdened presidency I never heard a teacher under 
him lisp the suspicion that one official act of his was prompted by a sel- 
fish or dishonorable motive. No work was too high for him, no work too 
low that was lawful and necessary for the accomplishment of the noble 
ends he sought. Nor was any task too severe or sacrifice too great. I 
saw him under every variety of trial, perplexity, annoyance, and disaster, 
and yet I never heard him utter one word of complaint. If he was 
wronged, if he had grievances, no associate of his was ever asked to share 
these burdens with him. There was a noble heroism in that character. 
And now I ask myself, will the Baptists of Maine understand the great- 
ness of their loss ? To those who knew him as we did here the sense of 
it will grow as the years roll on, and the hollowness of this world of shams 
is more and more exposed. 

The following is a letter from Rev. J. Ricker, d.d., dated 
Augusta, March i6, 1882 : — 

The announcement of Dr. Champlin's death touches me very deeply. 
Though a few years my senior, I have known him intimately for the last 
forty years and more. When I went to Portland in 1839 to take edito- 
rial charge of the Advocate, he was pastor of the First Baptist Church, 
and as such welcomed me to membership in that body, and signed my 
license to preach the Gospel. In my first pulpit endeavors his sympathy 
and counsels were invaluable to me. My memory of them, now that he 
has passed beyond the veil, is of a very vivid and tender character. He 
probably never realized to the full extent how much he helped me in those 
years of self-distrust and misgiving. It is a great debt that I owe him. 

I could not but be well acquainted with his subsequent career at Water- 
ville, both as professor and president. It is a memorable service that he 
rendered to that college. It is reasonably certain that no other man would 
have rendered a like service, and equally certain, I think, that scarcely 



30 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



another man, under the same circumstances, could have rendered it. He 
did just the right work in just the right way and at just the right time. 
On its earthward side it was a thankless task. From the higher standpoint 
of the moral and the spiritual it was a work to inspire and nerve the whole 
being to action. To an unreflecting observer it seemed plodding; but to a 
soul gifted with even a faint pre-vision of the fruitage sure to follow, it was 
instinct with life and beauty and lofty inspiration. Dr. Champlin needs no 
monument at the hands of others. He has reared his own, and it is a 
monument that speaks with rare and touching eloquence to those of us 
who survive him. In enduring brick and stone it dots the campus of 
Colby University ; but though that brick and stone may mutely tell to 
coming ages something of what he did, they can never tell it all. Indeed, 
they can give but a faint hint of his lifework. Who shall say that, but for 
his quiet, persistent, heroic endeavors to place Waterville College upon a 
secure financial basis, Gardner Colby would ever have seen the grand pos- 
sibilities involved, and have dowered her with a name coupled with the 
magnificent gift of two hundred thousand dollars t If what a man moves 
others to do, no less than what he does himself, belongs to the fruitage of 
his life, then to President Champlin, I think, more than to any other 
human agent, belongs the credit of securing to Colby University the 
hundreds of thousands that now enrich its treasury and augment its 
usefulness. But it is not alone, or perhaps chiefly, to the buildings and 
endowment that we should have regard in estimating the aggregate results 
of such a life. The profound thinking, the critical sholarship, the patient 
study, the wise teaching, the wholesome counsels, the scrupulous fidelity in 
all little things, are to be taken into the account as well. Indeed, these 
last constitute the "upper half" of the character of this distinguished 
man. True, he could make no special boast of brilliancy; but that is only 
the thing of a day. He neither was, nor affected to be, a genius ; but he 
was something far better. With an unusually robust intellect, an honest 
heart and a fixed purpose, he pushed his investigations into every field of 
inquiry pertaining to the several branches of learning he was called to 
teach. With unflagging industry he toiled, with pre-eminent fidelity he 
sought to discharge the great trusts committed to his keeping, and hence 
was faithful in little and also in much. His life has been a distinguished 
benediction, whether considered in its relation to the church or state, to 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 31 

learning or to religion. Many and many are the persons who will feel an 
impulse to drop a tear of love and gratitude upon the grave of James Tift 
Champlin. 

The following is an extract from a letter written by Rev. 
G. D. B. Pepper, d.d., who succeeded Dr. Robins in the pres- 
idency at Waterville. The letter is dated Chester, Pennsyl- 
vania, March 17, 1882: — 

I have just heard that Dr. Champlin has gone on to his home. I have 
much reason to remember him with grateful respect. His sound, practical 
wisdom, coupled with great kindness and patient forbearance, was of incal- 
culable benefit to me during my ministry at Waterville, and has assumed 
new value in my estimation year by year as I have looked back to those 
days. I have learned that such characters as his are rare. I rejoice that 
he was spared to a full age for the completion of a noble lifework. 

In a letter, Rev. A. Bunker of Toungoo, Burma, records 
the following reminiscence : — 

I believe that all students who went to Colby to do solid work found a 
friend in Dr. Champlin, and, as the years roll round, my admiration for 
his character increases. Dr. Champlin had a very tender heart under a 
stern exterior. This I discovered while yet in college. I remember on 
one occasion going to him to get an extension of time on " term bills." I 
was very poor, struggling through college, with no help save my own hands, 
and my "term bills" caught up with my resources and passed them. On 
presenting my case to the good Doctor in his private room, I was almost 
annihilated when he exclaimed, in his abrupt manner, " The laws of the 
college must be obeyed; the laws of the college must be obeyed"; but 
when I turned rather hopelessly toward the door, the good man stepped up 
to me, put his hand tenderly on my shoulder, and said, " Young man, don't 
be discouraged ; help will come if you deserve it." I never heard any- 
thing more about the three "term bills " in arrears till the close of my 
course, when I paid them. If the laws of the college were obeyed, the 
good Doctor stepped in between them and me somehow. Some time after 
this, while I was walking in front of the buildings, putting the finish on a 



32 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



morning lesson, I saw him coming toward me. I began to wonder what I 
had done to require the attention of the Doctor to me personally. He 
approached me, and speaking pleasantly, said, " What are you going to 
be — a minister? Deacon Greenough of Portland has given a scholar- 
ship, which is assigned to you, and I suppose he would like to know what 
you are going to do." This was the way he announced that the help 
would come for the rest of my course. Dr. Champlin stamped himself 
upon his pupils, and among the many whose instruction I have had the 
honor to enjoy. Dr. Champlin holds a large place. 

On Tuesday, June 27, 1882, Rev. A. K. P. Small, d.d., 
then pastor of the First Baptist Church, Fall River, Massa- 
chusetts, delivered in the chapel at Waterville an address 
before the alumni, commemorative of the services of ex- 
President Champlin. In this address he said : — 

Coming up to our annual literary festival this year, we look in vain for 
the honored form of one who moved regularly through these walks during 
more than thirty years, becoming so identified with what is most substan- 
tial here as to seem an e_ssential part of this classic retreat. We look in 
vain for him ? That is hardly true. How much of himself, of his best 
life, of his far-reaching wisdom — more than could be seen in a single hu- 
man form — is here before you ! These halls, consecrated to devotion, to 
sacred memories and to erudition, this grateful shade, these scholastic 
environments, all, all bear, and will continue to bear, what permanent 
impress of himself ! 

The pen of a competent and appreciative writer has already secured for 
history suitable record of his deeds. The president of another college 
has beautifully uttered the enviable tribute of contemporary educators. 
Pastor, associates, friends, have spoken of what he was, as pillar in the 
church, citizen, husband, father, friend. The sacred requiem has been 
chanted over the silent form from which, nearly four months ago, the 
immortal spirit fled. His name, his honor, are secure beyond the neces- 
sity of any words that can now be uttered. Yet you, sons and daughters 
of this institution, could not allow such violence to your own sense of grat- 
itude and obligation as to pass through these anniversary days without 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



33 



claiming a few moments, not for empty pageantry or formal eulogy, or the 
repetition of funeral rites, but for the privilege of offering a simple, unob- 
trusive garland at this favorite shrine of his professional and executive 
honors. 

No better utterance in your behalf can now be attempted than im- 
perfect translation into words of the prominent lesson which his life so 
permanently fastened upon this very place, viz. : that the noblest monu- 
ment for one's self is what he builds for those who follow him ; putting 
himself into what is better than even the nearest perfect effigy of bronze 
or marble — into the educated lives of those who shall better perpetuate 
his memory. 

What evidences are here that President Champlin spent himself in build- 
ing for others, yet spent himself in exactly the best way to perpetuate him- 
self — bequeathing appointments of a literary home, in the perpetual influ- 
ence of which he shall live in the successive generations of uplifted, cul- 
tured lives. We refer not to these granite edifices alone, but to his accom- 
panying and more special intellectual work. Those who have never written 
nor edited a single volume that becomes a permanent educating power 
have no conception of the amount and varied elements of best life that 
must be given to it. But with the wearing responsibilities of the govern- 
ment of a college, and the peculiar financial burdens of the chairman of 
the prudential committee, through a career of most important building 
enterprise, all the while constantly filling the chair of instruction in the 
department of intellectual and moral philosophy, and at the same time so 
regularly and accurately carrying through the press standard classical and 
metaphysical works, like Greek grammars ; editions of ^schines, Demos- 
thenes, Butler; original text-books upon intellectual philosophy, ethics and 
political economy — such achievements of laborious scholarship President 
Chamberlain was pleased to call a mystery. To those who know how much 
of almost superhuman physical and mental life that requires, it is the mys- 
tery next to miracle. 



And now, garnered among the treasures most secure, for the archives of 
the university and its tributary academies, for the honor of this town, for 
5 



34 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIJV. 

the church, and the interests of sound learning, is the untarnished charac- 
ter and the continual influence of President James Tift Champlin. 

Like words of glowing eulogy were spoken in private as 
well as in public. They came as a conviction begotten in 
college days, and strengthened amid the struggles of later 
life in which Dr. Champlin's teachings and conduct proved 
suggestive and helpful They may all be summed up in the 
glad welcome of the Master, "Well done, thou good and 
faithful servant ! " 



INAUGURAL ADDRESS 

V 
AS PRESIDENT OF WATERVILLE COLLEGE 

Deliveked Tuesday Afternoon, August 10, 1858 



INAUGURAL ADDRESS. 



Gentlemen of the Trustees and Friends of the Instittition : — 

It has seemed to me proper, on assuming the duties of 
the presidency of the college, that I should address to the 
assembled guardians and patrons of the institution a few 
remarks, indicating my views of the office and the character 
of the public education which it may be expected will be 
here imparted. I need not say that, knowing ^11 well, as I 
do, the history and condition of the college, I do not regard 
the office as a sinecure. Following a succession of able and 
learned men, and entering upon my duties at an important 
crisis in the history of the institution, I see nothing but 
labor and responsibility before me — and in these, indeed, I 
find my chief incitement. Whatever may be the illusions 
of youth in this matter, one at length learns that labor is 
less irksome than leisure, and responsibility more inspiring 
than a state of easy, quiet security. A fair field for the 
exertion of one's powers, the opportunity of doing some- 
thing for the higher interests of society, the hope of giving 
greater efficiency to an important instrumentality, the con- 
sciousness that a large circle of interested spectators are 
watching the workings of a new arrangement, are among 
the most powerful and wholesome incitements which can be 
addressed to the human mind. 

37 



38 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

Such motives seem to me to exist in all their power in 
the present case. I admit the responsibility of the position. 
I welcome the labor, and hope to be able to approve myself 
to the friends of the institution as a faithful servant, whether 
successful or not. Indeed, I see much to encourage in the 
case. With a highly eligible situation, with a respectable 
number of interesting and interested students, with an in- 
creasing band of alumni to advocate our interests wherever 
they go, and a large constituency of friends, who, I trust, 
will show themselves ready, when the call is made — as it 
must be soon — to supply the only great need of the insti- 
tution, " material aid," I cannot but feel that there is no 
ground for discouragement. Certain it is that, if Waterville 
College, in its present state of maturity, and with its ac- 
knowledged advantages of situation, etc., does not for the 
future make reasonable progress, it will be either for the 
want of proper management here, or for the want of proper 
co-operation and support among its friends. Let us hope 
that neither will be wanting, that the designs of Providence 
in planting the institution may not be frustrated. And that 
you may see what ground there is to hope that the failure 
will not be here, I propose briefly to sketch the character of 
the education which we shall aim to impart to those com- 
mitted to our care. 

College education has received various designations, as 
the higher education, a scholastic education, an education in 
the arts and sciences, etc.; but none of its designations 
seem to me so appropriate as that of liberal education. This, 
to my mind, best expresses the character of the education 
which ought to be imparted in a college. It is one of those 



yAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 39 

fortunate designations, which, hitting upon the true nature 
of the thing intended, is equally applicable to it at all times, 
and under all degrees of development. Originally it was 
simply the education of a freeman, as opposed to that of 
the servile classes — the education of a gentleman, in short. 
In this sense it marks that state of society when education, 
and all other advantages of any account, belonged to a priv- 
ileged class, who sharply distinguished themselves from the 
lower classes as freemen, gentlemen, nobles, etc. These 
had all the property, all the authority, all the social advan- 
tages, and consequently all the education which deserved 
the name. They alone possessed the means for any gener- 
ous culture. If others had any education, it was such as 
they picked up under great disadvantages, and kence neces- 
sarily confined to the commonest things — to a few pro 
cesses immediately useful, without any reference to its influ- 
ence upon the mind itself. 

A liberal education, then, was from the beginning, accord- 
ing to the standard of the times, an enlarged education, an 
education aiming to develop the mental powers, to liberalize 
and enfranchise the soul. A liberal education has always 
been the noblest education which was to be had — a real 
drawing out and unfolding of the nature, rather than the 
mechanical inculcation of a few rote-and-rule processes — 
an education valuable for its effects upon the mind and 
character rather than for the various dexterities and qualifi- 
cations for business imparted by it. Always possessing this 
character, a truly liberal education, under the enlightenment 
of the present age, takes an enlarged view of human nature 
its capacities and destinies. It recognizes, indeed, as every- 



40 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

thing right must recognize, the real interest of man as its 
end ; but it cannot beheve that interest to be wholly tem- 
poral and material, much less that it consists wholly in 
immediate mercenary advantages. It values at something 
real culture ; it values education for itself, for its effects 
upon the soul as well as upon the purse ; it aims primarily 
to liberalize and enfranchise the soul, that it may have a 
more just conception of its true interests, and greater abil- 
ity to secure them. 

With this explanation of what a college education should 
be, we are prepared to consider how far our course comes up 
to the ideal, and especially on what grounds it may claim for 
itself the title of liberal. And I remark in the first place, 
that the course of study pursued and to be pursued here 
deserves to be considered liberal, on account of its tendency 
to free the soul from the dominion of sense. From its 
dominion, I say — from its undue influence, not, of course, 
from all influence of sense. This would require more than 
monastic severity of discipline. I refer to no such austere 
mortification of sense as this; nor, on the other hand, to that 
lofty triumph over sense which is gained in the impassioned 
and spiritual contemplations of pure religion. Yet it is 
something of the same sort, as far as it goes, though ob- 
tained through a very different medium, and unsanctified by 
the same holy object of contemplation. 

From our earliest years we find ourselves surrounded by 
material objects, which address themselves to our senses, and 
solicit and receive a large part of our attention. Our sen- 
sations are wholly determined from without, independently 
of our own efforts, and there is great danger of our giving 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 41 

ourselves up entirely to their influence, and thus becoming 
the sport of external impulses. This is the case with the 
lower animals, and there is much in the lowest forms of 
human life which approaches it. To follow sense requires 
no exertion, as it is only obeying the present impulse. It is 
only to eat when hungry, to sleep when exhausted, to avoid 
what gives pain, to seek what gives pleasure, and thus obey 
the strongest impulse for the time being, without any fore- 
thought or will of one's own. Such is life with the savage, 
and it becomes different with man only as he is emancipated 
from sense by education. As each individual is drawn out 
and developed by education, he becomes more and more 
separated from the common, passive instrumentalities of na- 
ture. All study tends in some degree to this einancipation. 
As an independent and determined concentration of the 
mind upon some particular subject, any special study is a 
rebellion against the dictation of sense. 

But while this is true of all studies, there are certain stud- 
ies which are specially adapted to carrying out this emanci- 
pation from sense in its higher relations, as the mathematics 
and metaphysics. Upon these, therefore, we chiefly rely for 
effecting this species of soul-emancipation. These have 
always been prominent studies in this college, and I trust 
ever will be. The idle clamor which has often been raised 
against them as " scholastic," " unpractical," etc., has been 
raised, in turn, by shallow pretenders, against all sound 
studies; and if heeded would banish from our colleges all 
but the most showy and flashy arts, and leave them but 
little above the level of fashionable boarding-schools for 
misses. Should a college course be reduced to the mere 
6 



42 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



acquisition of arts and accomplishments ? Should not a 
college, rather, teach science, as the foundation of all the 
arts ? Mathematics, metaphysics, etc., we are told, are un- 
practical ; that is, they do not impart dexterities which can 
be turned to immediate account. But do they not lay the 
foundation for the useful arts .? Ask the land surveyor, the 
navigator, the mechanician, the reasoner, the thinker, where 
he got his art, and he will point you to the one or the other 
of these sciences as its chief source. But aside from any 
particular arts which may be founded upon these sciences, 
they tend more than any other studies to emancipate the 
soul from sense, and thus give it that independence and free- 
dom of movement which are essential to all fruitful thought, 
and hence to all useful art. 

Mathematics is the science of quantity. It has to do 
with the how much, whether in space, time, number or de- 
gree — all abstract conceptions, or mere forms of thought. 
Pure mathematics is an absolute science, the mere devel- 
opment of the contents of certain conceptions. While we 
conceive of space as admitting of all possible relative posi- 
tions and forms, we conceive of this, as well as of time and 
degree, as susceptible of infinite divisions and subdivisions, 
and this, too, irrespective of any material things or actual 
created objects, occupying space, existing in time, or exhib- 
iting degrees of force, density, or any other quality. And 
so also number, or discrete quantity, as it is called, does not 
necessarily suppose the existence of particular things, but 
may represent merely a succession of like portions of pure 
space and time, or degrees of force, etc. 

Here, then, is a science, not only cut quite clear of sense, 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN., 43 

but which actually dominates over sense, by imposing its 
laws upon all sensible objects, as was seen by Pythagoras of 
old, who taught that number, or quantitative proportion, was 
the generating principle of all things, since it determined 
their form. And what must be the effect of such a science 
in emancipating the soul from sense ? It carries the 
thoughts quite over this material crust of things and sets 
them afloat under the most unrestrained conditions. While 
engaged in it, during the crisis of absorption in its most 
abstract processes, the mind not only triumphs over, but is 
absolutely divorced from, sense. 

And even in its applications the science still hovers above 
the particular sensible objects to which it is applied, and 
determines them, rather than is determined bji them. At 
most, it applies to things only ideally ; it waits on observa- 
tion, but only to perform what sense cannot do, to deter- 
mine by its calculations and formulas the exact positions, 
times, and degrees of things. Hence, even here, it disci- 
plines the mind to superiority to sense ; and by the vast dis- 
tances in space, the remote periods in time, and the exact 
ideal determinations to which it carries the thoughts, tends 
to make them denizens of the universe, and break the power 
of local, material objects over them. Accordingly mathe- 
matical studies not only vindicate to themselves the right 
to a place in a course of liberal study, but to a high and 
commanding place, as one of the most effective means of 
freeing the mind from the dominion of sense. Aside from 
their great and acknowledged usefulness, in their deter- 
minations of the distances, times, forms, masses, forces, and 
numbers of objects — results so important that we could 



44 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

scarcely live without them — they must ever remain one of 
the great gymnastics by which the mind is trained to that 
superiority to sense so essential to all free, independent and 
effective action. 

Much the same may be said of the study of metaphysics, 
as a means of disenthralling the soul from sense. Meta- 
physics proposes to itself nothing less than to penetrate to 
the very essence of being, to go wholly below phenomena 
and all sensible qualities, and behold, as it were, face to face, 
the very nature of matter, of the soul, and even of God him- 
self. This has been its high aspiration in all ages, and prob- 
ably always will be, with however little prospect of ever being 
able to realize it. The human mind is ever pressing upon 
the infinite. The reason is ever struggling toward unity. It 
always expects to be able to resolve co-ordinate causes into 
higher and still higher unities, until it reaches an absolute 
unity, a sole first cause. This, with Pythagoras, as already 
observed, was number or proportion ; with the Eleatic phi- 
losophers it was the one general underlying substance of all 
phenomenal existence ; with Plato it was the world of ideas, 
existing potentially in the human mind and actually in the 
mind of God, constituting the true, revealed in the beauti- 
ful, and working together in the grand procession of things 
for the just and the good; while with the Christian philos- 
opher it is an uncaused, personal creator, independent of 
nature, and yet " God all and in all." It is in grasping at 
these grand conceptions that the mind is carried farthest 
away from sense to its highest point of ideality. Of all sys- 
tems of mere philosophy no one has done so much in rais- 
ing its disciples above sense as Platonism, and this for the 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 45 

reason that it exalts the mind to higher and more spiritual 
conceptions. Indeed, it knows no other world than the 
ideal, carrying the mind through a grand gradation of ideals 
from beginning to end. It is confessedly the noblest instru- 
ment of culture ever wrought out by the unassisted reason 
of man, and it is so chiefly on account of its lofty idealism. 

But aside from these lofty problems of metaphysics proper, 
which are ever destined, perhaps, to be the object of the 
aspiration and faith of man, rather than of his positive 
knowledge, much of the same effect is produced by the 
study of mere psychology. Psychology, to be sure, is an 
inductive science, but the observation from which the induc- 
tions are made is of a spiritual subject, wholly inappreciable 
by sense. The observation being wholly internal, can be 
conducted only by the utmost abstraction from sensible ob- 
jects. Thus the subject of observation is spiritual, and the 
act of observation spiritual. The whole study is of the 
most subtle character — subtle in its nature, in its processes, 
and in its results. Every step in it is taken only by with- 
drawing from sense, and is therefore a direct triumph over 
sense. And thus it is that metaphysical philosophy, in all 
its forms, conspires with the mathematical sciences, as spe- 
cial instrumentalities, in effecting that disenthrallment of 
the soul from sense, so essential to all free and fruitful 
action. 

Secondly, we claim for the course of study, as pursued in 
this college, the title of liberal, on account of its tendency 
to free the soul from the dominion of the imagination. I 
do not here, of course, refer to the cultivated and trained 
imagination, which has learned its proper sphere, and be- 



46 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN, 



come the obedient servant of the reason in carrying out its 
high behests — as such it needs no restraining — but to the 
imagination in its rude, untutored state, when it is more un- 
der the control of sense and feeling than of reason. In this 
state, aroused by external sensations or internal feelings, it 
fills the chambers of the soul with an array of fantastic fig- 
ments, which too often pass for realities. In obedience to 
that general tendency of the human mind to search for 
causes, or, perhaps I should say, as a result of that inherent 
conviction, that every change is effected by some operat- 
ing power, the untrained imagination fancies a personal 
cause in each case. It is thus that rude nations people 
every element with supernatural beings, to account for the 
various changes which transpire around them. We see this 
tendency exhibited conspicuously in the early history of the 
Greeks. As remarked by a recent writer : — 

The legends of that lively race may mostly be traced to that sort of awe 
or wonder with which simple and uneducated minds regard the changes 
and movements of the natural world. The direct and easy way in which 
the imagination of such persons accounts for marvelous phenomena is to 
refer them to the operation of persons. When the attention is excited by 
the regular movements of sun and moon and stars, by the alternations of 
day and night, by the recurrence of the seasons, by the rising and falling 
of the seas, by the ceaseless flow of rivers, by the gathering of clouds, 
the rolling of thunder, and the flashing of lightning, by the operation of 
life in the vegetable and animal world, in short, by any exhibition of an 
active and motive power, it is natural for uninstructed minds to consider 
such changes and movements as the work of divine persons. 

Nor are such excess and crudeness of imagination confined 
wholly to primitive times and rude states of society. They 
undoubtedly indicate a want of right and sound culture, but 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 47 

not necessarily of all culture. Considerable knowledge of 
certain sorts may co-exist with a wild capriciousness of im- 
agination. It is only by long and sound training that we 
learn to discriminate clearly between imagined figments and 
valid knowledge. These figments are found among the 
contents of the mind, and are easily mistaken for veritable 
knowledge. There is more or less admixture of fancy with 
fact in all untrained minds, and persons of a strong imagi- 
nation, perhaps, never learn wholly to separate them. We 
see how much care is requisite in order to discriminate the 
two from each other in the article of telling the truth. A 
little carelessness here, as every one must have observed, so 
confuses the two elements in the mind that one is scarcely 
able to discriminate the true from the fictitious.% Persons of 
unveracious habits soon reach a state in which they can 
relate as fact the wildest tissue of fiction, and with a confi- 
dence and naivete utterly astounding to a truth-discriminat- 
ing hearer. Indeed, the imagination is always, as Bishop 
Butler calls it, a " forward, delusive faculty, ever obtruding 
itself beyond its sphere." It is ever conjuring up images 
which it would impose upon us as realities. Like all our 
faculties, it is indispensable in its place, but a source of infi- 
nite embarrassment and confusion when out of its place. 

Now, while all accurate and careful study tends to chasten 
the imagination, and confine it to its appropriate sphere, the 
study of the physical sciences furnishes the best corrective 
to the obtrusiveness of this power. Mental science; indeed, 
analyzes the operations of the faculty, and points out the 
unreal nature of its figments, but natural science curbs and 
restrains the faculty itself. It pushes it back from a vast 



48 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

domain which it has taken possession of, and reclaims that 
domain to itself on the most undoubted title. Natural sci- 
ence, whether as a study of facts or a study of laws, is a 
most wholesome corrective to the imagination. Facts are 
opposed to fancies, and the more the mind is stored with 
them the less room there is for that imposing array of fan- 
cies with which the untutored imagination fills the soul. 
Imagination has been called a "dying sense"; its images, 
therefore, are the ghosts of departed perceptions, and often 
usurp their place. These ghosts must be dispossessed of 
their usurped rights, and the study of the facts of nature is 
the sorcery by which they are to be exorcised. The study of 
nature is a trained and careful use of the senses, in order to 
ascertain the real facts which exist there. It is not trusting 
to mere sensation, but is the application of intelligence to 
sensation. In this study nothing is trusted to but veritable 
perceptions, which are equally removed from sensations and 
fancies. There is no room for fiction here ; all fancies are 
thrust aside as impertinent, and the sole question is, what 
are the exact facts in the case. Such exactitude is the best 
possible training for the imagination. 

But natural science has its laws as well as its facts. It 
becomes science, indeed, only as its facts are connected by 
general conceptions which both simplify and explain them. 
These laws are certain supposed modes of interaction among 
substances, which suggest a rational ground for various ob- 
served phenomena, and connect them together by a common 
thread. The deducing of these laws from the facts is the 
philosophy of nature, and, as such, is a portion of that study 
of the abstract, which is the special corrective of the domi- 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN, 49 

nation of sense. But it is also a corrective of the domina- 
tion of the imagination. As these deduced laws of nature 
are general conceptions suggesting a rational ground for the 
various facts and changes which we witness around us, they 
remove the necessity for the assumption of the direct action 
of personal agents in order to account for these phenomena. 
Natural science thus banishes from nature the polytheistic 
machinery of the untutored and awe-struck imagination. 
This anarchy of deities retires before the march of science, 
being replaced by the unifying conceptions of the under- 
standing. As saith the poet : — 

The intelligible forms of ancient poets, 

The fair humanities of old religion, 

The power, the beauty and the majesty, ^ 

That had their haunts in dale or piny mountain, 

Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, 

Or chasm or wat'ry depths — all these have vanished ; 

They live no longer in the faith of reason. 

But none the less does the real Deity retain his place and 
influence in nature. These laws of nature are but rational 
causes, that is, conceptions of certain modes of interaction 
among substances, framed to satisfy the demands of the rea- 
son and the purposes of science. In themselves, the as- 
sumed causes or principles of action are wholly occult, or 
unknown in their nature. To say, for instance, that all the 
varying motions of the heavenly bodies are referable to a 
general law of attraction, is only expressing a general fact, 
which embraces a multitude of particular ones, and express- 
ing it in terms calculated to suggest, from the analogies of 
our experience, a formal cause for the phenomena. It does 
7 



50 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



not at all explicate the nature of attraction, or tell us in what 
it consists. That attractive power, in itself, may be nothing 
but the direct agency of God. It is certainly as conceiv- 
able that it is this, as that it is the actual influence of bodies 
of inert matter over each other, which are separated by 
almost illimitable tracts of intervening space. And so of 
the other laws of nature. They are mere unifying concep- 
tions; and as such, they are significant indications of the ten- 
dency of the human mind — not, certainly, to no first cause 
— but to a single First Cause. The banishment of polythe- 
ism, therefore, is only a step toward the establishment of a 
general and all-comprehending Providence of the " one liv- 
ing and true God." Thus, while natural science lays the 
spectral deities of the imagination, it evokes from the depths 
of our consciousness the intimations of a single, every-where- 
present God. 

Thirdly, we claim for our course of education here the 
title of liberal, because it has a tendency to set free the 
tongue. Perhaps it may be thought this is quite an un- 
called-for result of education. You may be disposed to 
think that the tongue is quite free enough without any spe- 
cial training; and possibly your private experience of its 
power may have often reminded you of the aptness of the 
Apostle's description of it, as " a fire, a world of iniquity, 
setting on fire the course of nature, and itself set on fire of 
hell; an unruly evil, which no man can tame." But it is 
just because it is this unruly evil in its untutored state that 
it needs training — not, indeed, to make it less free, but to 
give it a higher freedom in the expression of the pure dic- 
tates of taste, of reason, and of conscience; a freedom which 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



51 



shall never be choked by passion, nor paralyzed by shame, 
on account of the unworthiness of the sentiments which it 
is uttering. The tongue, to be sure, is, in one sense, free 
enough without education, but it is coarse, and ribald, and 
vulgar. It vibrates with electric rapidity under the agita- 
tions of passion — darts out malice, spits out hate, flashes 
out envy, and rattles out ribaldry and billingsgate, according 
to the prevailing passion of the moment. But this is little 
more than a spasmodic freedom. There can be no rational 
freedom of the tongue any more than there can be of the 
soul, without culture. The same tongue which is so glib 
under the inspiration of passion falters and fails in the 
expression of all connected and elevated thought. 

The true relation of thought and speech '\^ happily indi- 
cated in the Latin by the words employed to signify the two 
processes, ratio and oratio, that is, the reason and the mouth- 
reason. All true, intelligent and fruitful discourse is but 
reason externalized, thought flowing out in speech. And 
yet speech is an art quite distinct from thought. Though 
we cannot speak intelligently without thoughts to utter, it 
does not follow that we can utter skillfully, without special 
training in the art, any thoughts which we may chance to 
have. We might just as reasonably expect one to show 
himself at once an expert mechanic, who had learned the 
principles of the art wholly from books, without any actual 
practice. Nay, more than this : we might as reasonably 
place timber and tools before one who knows nothing of 
house-carpentry either theoretically or practically, and ex- 
pect him with these means to proceed to construct an ele- 
gant house. The mind which has thoughts merely has 



52 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



barely the materials of speech — neither the rules nor the 
skill for using them. In order thoroughly to set free the 
tongue, the mind must be supplied not only with the general 
material of thought, but with the theoretical principles for 
its right expression, while there must be added to all actual 
practice in its expression. Here, then, is a demand for a 
large and important department of instruction. And how 
is this demand met in our college course } 

I answer, it is met, and in the most effectual manner as I 
conceive, by the special studies of rhetoric and the different 
languages, particularly the ancient classical languages. 
Rhetoric, with the accompanying exercises in composition, 
criticism, elocution, declamation and debate, is wholly de- 
voted to teaching the art of speaking and writing well. 
This is its sole business and aim. It imparts both the prin- 
ciples and the practice of the art, as far as this can be done 
under the limited conditions of college life. It has not the 
advantage, to be sure, of mature minds, filled with the fruits 
of experience, and hence apprehending the subject under its 
most practical relations, to which to impart its instructions ; 
nor can it call to its aid those great occasions, as they arise 
in the operations of general society, which give eloquence 
to the tongue and vigor to the pen. It cannot, therefore, 
make perfect speakers and writers, since the conditions for 
this do not exist, and cannot exist, with so immature sub- 
jects. Experience, wisdom, responsibility, are required to 
perfect eloquence and style, and these cannot exist in youth, 
whether in college or out. In this, as in other departments 
of college study, the aim is to lay the foundation for future 
development — to impart such instruction as will give one 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



53 



the use and control of his mind, and open to him the vari- 
ous magazines of thought, whence he is to take his armor 
for the conflict of Hfe. And this is all that can be done in 
youth under any course of training. The study of rhetoric 
and its accompanying exercises brings the mind to the con- 
templation of style in writing and manner in speaking as 
distinct arts. It awakens it to a sense of fitness in expres- 
sion, and teaches it how to attain that fitness. It thus 
places before the mind the true ideal, and gives it the means 
and the impulse to aspire to it. With such a foundation 
laid in college, its principles may readily be carried out in 
after life, in the study of general literature, and the manly 
exercises of public speaking and writing. 

And with rhetoric the study of foreign lai%uages con- 
spires to produce the same result. A foreign language can 
be acquired only by studying it in its principles and ele- 
ments. It compels attention to these, and hence is a much 
more effective means of training in the general principles of 
language, than the study of authors in our mother tongue. 
And this is especially the case with the ancient classical lan- 
guages. Besides that we find in them a fuller and happier 
development of general linguistic principles than in any of 
the modern languages, they are far more potent in compell- 
ing attention from their completely antique cast and style of 
thought. Nay, more; so different is the whole manner of 
conception and arrangement of words in these languages, 
compared with our own, that a sentence to be done from the 
Latin or Greek into English must be conceived and con- 
structed entirely anew. Hence every exercise in translation 
is a direct exercise in mental composition, as well as verbal 



64 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN, 

expression. They are thus the best possible guides to the 
young, in composition and expression — placing before the 
mind (as is requisite for beginners) the materials, and requir- 
ing that they should be reconstructed into good English 
sentences, expressed in good English words. 

Besides, the Latin and Greek form the basis of nearly all 
the cultivated modern languages, and constitute the models 
on which a large part of their most valuable literature has 
been constructed. The Greek and Latin authors were all- 
in-all at the revival of letters in the Middle Ages, and for 
centuries furnished the inspiration of nearly every author 
who wrote in any tongue. Nay, even at the present day 
they contain many of the finest specimens of literature — ■ 
in poetry, eloquence, philosophy and history — to be found 
in any language. Thus a large part of the highest spirit of 
literature is either directly treasured in these venerable lan- 
guages, or intimately associated with them. All modern 
history and literature have been so filtered through them as 
to receive more or less of the classic aroma in the passage, 
like the smoke of the Turk's pipe which is drawn through 
a compartment filled with sweet-scented waters. 

It is thus that the study of rhetoric, and of our own and 
foreign languages, furnishes one with the words, the rules 
and the art of expression, till the tongue, which once stam- 
mered, and faltered, and blundered in expressing the sim- 
plest ideas, has become so endued with eloquence that 
nothing seems too hard for it to express — that no subject is 
too profound or lofty, too abstract or intricate, to be clothed 
by it with the drapery of an appropriate and splendid 
diction. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 55 

Finally, we claim for our course of study the title of lib- 
eral, because the grand tendency of the whole is to free the 
soul from the dominion of passion. Passion, as embracing 
the various mental perturbations, whether occasioned by 
local physical causes in the organism, or by the perceptions 
of the mind, stands opposed to reason. Feeling is not prop- 
erly a cognition, or if it be, it is the lowest form of cogni- 
tion. It is blind compared with intelligence. It is in part, 
to be sure, consequent upon intellectual perceptions, and va- 
ries in dignity with the character of those perceptions ; but 
even here it is only the servitor of intelligence. Feelings 
are right only when consequent upon a truly rational view of 
things. When not thus consequent, when not warranted by 
reason, when in any way excessive, as they alwa}^ are when 
they assume the form of passions, they are opposed to rea- 
son. The development of reason, therefore, must tend to 
the suppression of passion, or excessive and unworthy feel- 
ing. It tends to give intelligence the mastery among the 
various mental impulses. Reason developed takes a clear 
and comprehensive view of things. The mind is no longer 
under the blind s^uidance of the false and distorted feelines 
consequent upon the crude perceptions of sense and imag- 
ination. Reason is clear, and calm, and comprehensive, and 
bids away all such chimeras from the mind. An educa- 
tion, therefore, which tends to free the soul from the domin- 
ion of sense and of the imagination, as we have endeavored 
to show to be the case with the education here given, must 
tend, also, to free the soul from the dominion of passion. 

This must be allowed to be, at least, the theoretical ten 
dency of all sound education. And we believe it does, in 



56 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

most cases, actually have something of this effect. We 
believe soundly educated men are less under the dominion 
of passion than the uneducated. But while we cannot but 
admit this fact, and claim for our course of education here 
all the influence in this direction which can come from mere 
enlightenment, we are aware of its inadequacy fully to free 
the soul from the dominion of passion. And what can be 
strono-er proof of a native depravity of heart in man than 
that it is so ! Here we see that even the most fully de- 
veloped reason is insufficient to restrain the excesses of 
passion. History shows this by the most conspicuous 
examples. The "law of the members" is too strong for the 
" law of the mind." Passion will not down at the bidding of 
reason ; and reason, however much developed, is not always 
sufficiently wakeful to perceive its encroachment. Hence 
the balance of the mind is evidently disturbed by some great 
disarrangement, since the less worthy power is found to pre- 
vail over the more worthy. 

We are compelled, therefore, in the last resort, to turn 
away from all science as a sufficient training for the pas- 
sions. Their radical and fatal excess can be cured only by 
the restraining and transforming influences of the Divine 
Spirit. Indeed, as sound educators, looking at human na- 
ture as it is, we must reject, at least in its highest accept- 
ance, the maxim of the great Roman orator and philosopher, 
that " philosophy is the cure of souls." History shows that 
this cure lies in religion alone. And accordingly, while we 
claim for science and literature a strong restraining influ- 
ence, we are not ashamed to say that we turn, for the last 
and highest discipline of the soul, to the renovating energy 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 57 

and purifying power of the religion of Christ. If in con- 
nection with the doctrines of science and the humanities of 
Hterature we shall be able also to convey into the minds of 
our pupils the doctrines and spirit of this holy religion, then, 
and only then, we shall consider our work done, and well 
done. 

Such, gentlemen, is my conception of what a college edu- 
cation should be, and the ideal of what we hope to make it 
here. How far we are to realize this ideal will depend very 
much upon the co-operation and support which we receive 
from the friends of the institution. With proper aid from 
without, we hope to be able so to conduct its internal affairs, 
that your institution, now comparatively feeble, shall at least 
keep pace with the progress of other things, ^d gradually 
acquire the influence which its commanding position at the 
center of the state entitles it to. And if it shall only do 
this, who can fully foresee the strength and honor which will 
gather around it from generation to generation. A well- 
endowed and well-conducted college is a most mighty and 
beneficent power. When the capitol of a great nation is 
reared, which is to witness for ages the deliberations of the 
fathers of the state, and whence are to issue the laws for the 
government of the people, when a vast territory has been 
penetrated by roads, which are to remain forever highways 
for the traveler, a great work has been done ; but not so 
great as when that territory has been dotted all over with 
schoolhouses and colleges. Capitols may crumble, roadbeds 
may be obliterated by eruptions from beneath, or the grad- 
ual attrition of the elements, but intelligence cannot be 
destroyed. While the graceful temples of Greece, and the 



68 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



proud capitol, and even the granite-paved roads of Rome, 
are in ruins, Pindar and Plato, Horace and Cicero, still sing 
as sweetly and discourse as sublimely as they did amid their 
native olive-groves, or on their Sabine farms. The influence 
of education is silent, but mighty. More subtle in its work- 
ings than electricity, more pervasive than light, it has been 
ordained as one of the great regenerating powers of the 
world, and, with morality and religion, constitutes the three- 
fold cord by which Divine Providence is drawing man on to 
his sublime and glorious destiny. 



RELIGION AND PHILANTHROPY 

DELIVERED BEFORE "THE SOCIETY OF MISSIONARY INQUIRY" 



newton theological institution 
June 24, 1856 



RELIGION AND PHILANTHROPY. 



The acceptance of an invitation to address a society of 
young men preparing for the Christian ministry, and associ- 
ated specifically for the purpose of missionary inquiry, seems 
to require that I should select a theme bearing more or less 
directly upon the great commission of the Master whom we 
all profess to serve. But you will not, I know, be too exact- 
ing upon this point. You will readily, I dare^say, allow me 
any reasonable latitude. You will not require that I should 
speak directly and specifically upon the subject of missions. 
A subject so dear to the church has necessarily been often 
and ably handled. The exigencies, the trials and the tri- 
umphs connected with the progress of so glorious a cause 
have called out appeals so stirring, vindications so triumph- 
ant, defenses so eloquent, and anthems so exultant, that I 
shall readily be excused for declining to mar the beauty and 
impressiveness of so grand a testimony by any poor efforts of 
mine on the present occasion. It will be enough if I do not 
wholly lose sight of this subject. I am to speak this even- 
ing to young men preparing for the Christian ministry, and 
who expect to devote their lives to the great work of reform- 
ing and saving their fellow-men. Now this work of evan- 
gelization may be considered, on one side, as the cause of 
God, and on the other as the cause of man. It is God's 

61 



62 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

truth working for man's good. It is deity laying hold of 
and elevating humanity. The minister, while he is the 
priest of God, is the servant of man. In serving God we 
the most effectually serve our race. Evangelization, there- 
fore, has two phases to it — Godward, it is religion ; man- 
ward, it is philanthropy. And this will constitute my theme, 

RELIGION AND PHILANTHROPY. 

These words express nearly all that is excellent in the 
character and conduct of men. They designate the two 
great forces which are at work in the reformation and regen- 
eration of our race. All the means and instrumentalities 
which are employed for the improvement of man are orig- 
inated and sustained by these forces. It is by their united 
action that society has been advanced thus far in its prog- 
ress, and is destined to be carried on to perfection. The 
love of God and the love of man are the grand motives to 
all good. A brief exhibition and illustration of the rela- 
tions of these two great reforming and regenerating forces, 
not only as they are in themselves, but as they have actually 
appeared in the history of the world, cannot be uninterest- 
ing or uninstructive. Forces in themselves entirely harmo- 
nious and conspiring, they have often been drawn into sharp 
contrast, and even antagonism with each other, by the per- 
versity of man. In this, as in so many other cases, what 
God hath joined together man has not feared to put 
asunder. 

Their true relation is easily exhibited. Religion is prima- 
rily love to God, philanthropy, primarily love to man. Ac- 
cording to one derivation, religion is the bond of piety or 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 63 

filial affection to God, while according to another it is the 
sum of those solemn emotions which we are conscious of in 
reviewing our life and conduct. In either case it is the 
voice of conscience when confronted with its Maker — the 
solemn feelings of penitence, reverence, obligation, love, 
which we have when our inmost being is laid open to the 
view of God, and our whole life, as it were, is brought up 
and examined in the lis^ht of his countenance. Religion is 
thus the highest, the most comprehensive, and the most 
authoritative sentiment of the human soul. By rightful 
authority it presides over the whole life and conduct, and 
when elicited by proper incitements, and directed by proper 
precepts, as is the case under the Christian system, leads 
to the most beneficent results. Such a sentiment, under 
proper guidance, cannot, of course, be silent %n so impor- 
tant a subject as our duty to our fellow-men. Indeed, the 
Scriptures, the record of the Christian faith, are filled with 
precepts and examples on this subject. The very spirit and 
essence of Christianity are concentrated in that little snatch 
of choral song which broke from the skies at the advent of 
its Founder into the world : — 

Glory to God in the highest, 

On earth peace, good-will to men ! 

God first, and man next ; this is the order and sum of 
Christianity. It magnifies God and ennobles man. It not 
only enjoins the love of God, but the love of man — and 
the love of man as the creature of God, thus making the 
love of man almost a part of the love of God. As a creat- 
ure of God, as an immortal and responsible being, even the 
most degraded specimen of the race is commended to our 



64 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

sympathy and regard. If made by God, if cared for and 
loved by him, he certainly should be by his fellow. The 
Christian religion is as superior to all other religions in its 
humanity as in the tone and character of its piety. Some 
humane precepts and examples, doubtless, may be found in 
pagan authors and pagan books of religion — sentiments, 
it may be, rising almost to the moral dignity and beauty of 
that contained in the "golden rule" of our Savior; but such 
sentiments in any but Christian authors are only rare and 
occasional — pearls quite covered up and lost in the mass of 
superstitious rubbish by which they are surrounded. It 
cannot be said of any heathen system of religion that its 
o-eneral spirit and substance are humane. On the contrary, 
this is eminently the spirit of the Gospel. What can be 
said of no other religious system, it outlaws no class, and 
denounces none, except for their sins. It knows no distinc- 
tion between men except what is based upon character. 
The hio-h and the low are alike offered forgiveness on con- 
dition of faith and repentance, and are alike rejected if they 
adhere to their sins. While it frowns away the proud, unre- 
lenting Pharisee, it receives the penitent publican ; while it 
pronounces its heaviest woes upon the self-righteous scribes 
and doctors of the law, it beckons back the repentant prodi- 
o-al, and makes the Mary out of whom the Savior cast seven 
devils one of the honored women who followed him wher- 
ever he went, even to the cross and the sepulcher. 

Accordingly, the spread of Christianity has everywhere 
proved the birth of philanthropy. Indeed, philanthropy is 
grandly inaugurated in the very act of propagating Chris- 
tianity. Its disciples are commanded to preach the Gospel 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



65 



to every creature, and in obedience to this command Chris- 
tian men and women have gone forth to seek out and save 
the lost, at the sacrifice of every earthly comfort — have left 
kindred and friends, happy climes and happy homes, the 
sweets of social intercourse, the quiet enjoyments of retire- 
ment and study, and all the unnumbered decencies and 
pleasures of civilized life — to consort with the most de- 
graded specimens of humanity, enveloped in filth, benighted 
by ignorance and brutalized by vice ; to accompany them in 
their pursuits and their migrations, to thread with them the 
tangled jungle or roam the wild mountain, to dwell where 
they dwell and lodge where they lodge, to die where they 
die, and with them to be buried, that they may rescue them 
from their darkness and woe, and fit them for the kingdom 
of heaven. This is philanthropy indeed — philanthropy in 
its divinest form. And just in proportion as these efforts at 
evangelization are successful in any part of the world, a 
spirit of philanthropy springs up in the community and 
spreads through all the departments of life. 

The world over, philanthropy is found only in the train 
of Christianity. The most enlightened nations of heathen 
antiquity, with many elements of civilization, were grossly 
deficient in humanity. Even the Greeks, who, not without 
reason, considered the surrounding nations as barbarians, 
had but faint conceptions of a common brotherhood among 
men, and but little of that fellow-feeling and sympathy 
which, with the Christian, makes another's woes his own. 
Their Bible was the Iliad, a book of charming simplicity 
and beauty, and relieved by many touching scenes of tender- 
ness and pathos between particular friends, but after all a 
9 



66 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

book of fearful carnage from beginning to end, involving 
both gods and men in the contest. Even at Athens woman 
was banished from society, and the great mass of the people 
but little cared for ; while at Sparta, every tie of home and 
affection was rudely sundered to meet the demands of an 
iron military discipline, the like of which, perhaps, the world 
has never witnessed — children being taken from their par- 
ents at a tender age and brought up at public tables on a 
sort of blood-pudding, called black broth, and couched upon 
bundles of reeds by night, while they were directed to cul- 
tivate their dexterity and courage by theft and murder 
among the despised Helots and Perioeci who surrounded 
them. 

The gods of Greece, though not of so malignant a char- 
acter as those of eastern nations, were yet in early times 
not unfrequently propitiated by human sacrifices, as is seen 
in the story of Iphigenia, which even the cultivated Atheni- 
ans of the age of Pericles did not blush to witness exhib- 
ited on the stage with all the pomp of the tragic art. With 
a literature singularly rich and refined, no treatise has de- 
scended to us devoted specifically to the interests of human- 
ity, or evincing large and generous views of the brotherhood 
of man. Greece has left many monuments which will never 
(jie — books, statues, temples, fortresses — but not even the 
shattered remains of an almshouse or an asylum. Much 
less has pagan Rome left anything of this sort. Bristling in 
every part with the implements of war, Rome was more of a 
camp than a state. A few reflecting minds, nursed in re- 
tirement, sometimes expressed noble sentiments, one of 
which, at least, still retains its place among the humane sen- 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 67 

timents of modern times — " I am a man, and therefore am 
interested in whatever is human " ; — but such sentiments 
are not common even in the writings of the noblest of her 
authors. Rome was the conquering, domineering mistress 
of the world, and neither knew nor cared anything about 
humanity. A nation whose serious employment was war, 
and whose favorite pastime was gladiatorial shows, could 
have exercised but few of the charities of life. 

Such was the condition of Greece and Rome even in 
their best estate. But this estate they had fallen from be- 
fore the introduction of Christianity, and had lost, among 
other things, nearly all the humane sentiments which they 
had ever possessed. Christianity found these once renowned 
states exhausted, prostrate, dying, but it soon breathed into 
them new life. And in nothing was this new life seen more 
than in the growing spirit of humanity, which began to dif- 
fuse itself through the community. It soon reached in its 
effects those who were the proper subjects for its exercise, 
the poor, the unfortunate and the distressed, who felt its 
influence, in the alms which they received, the houses of 
refuge which were erected for their comfort, and the exer- 
tions made for their improvement. At length it reached 
even the slave, and set him free (what, alas ! it has not even 
yet done among us), and it has gone on emancipating one 
class after another, and correcting one abuse after another, 
till the present time. 

The same results have followed the propagation of Chris- 
tianity among heathen nations, in modern times. I need 
not detain you by a rehearsal of the tale of cruelty which 
has been borne back by modern missionaries from every 



"° JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

part of the dark domain of heathenism — of human sacri- 
fices in one quarter, of the burning of widows in another, 
of the exposure of infants and the aged in another, of cruel 
tortures, and even crushings beneath the wheels of the pon- 
derous car of their idol-gods in another, and the systematic 
grinding and trampling upon the helpless everywhere, till 
poor, oppressed human nature seemed no longer able to 
bear its burdens ! You are all acquainted with these sad 
histories, and equally acquainted with the happy effects 
which have ensued from the diffusion of Christian truth in 
these same habitations of cruelty — of the direct abolition of 
many of these cruel rites and practices, the awakening of a 
general spirit of humanity and Christian love through large 
communities, and in some of the almost complete establish- 
ment of the humane sentiments and institutions of Chris- 
tian lands. These facts are so notorious as to need no 
rehearsal here, and to all unprejudiced minds must be re- 
garded as conclusively establishing the dependence of phi- 
lanthropy upon Christianity. Such, then, is their true rela- 
tion. But this relation has often been denied, and very dif- 
ferent relations asserted to exist between them. Let us 
examine these asserted relations. 

In the first place it is contended by many that philan- 
thropy does not necessarily follow Christianity, but might 
as well precede it. In refutation of this assumption it would 
seem sufficient to reply, that it is entirely unsustained by 
facts — nay, that all the facts are directly against it. This 
has appeared in what has already been said. We have 
found philanthropy only in the train of Christianity ; and 
not only so, all attempts to reverse this process have sig- 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 69 

nally failed. For centuries it has been a favorite theory 
with the enemies, and with even some of the friends, of 
Christianity, that the most effectual way to improve men is 
to civilize them before attempting to Christianize them. 
This, I say, has been the theory of a large class of pre- 
tended or real philanthropists for centuries, and yet I am 
not aware that they have, in all this time, been able to 
adduce a single fact, either transpiring in the natural course 
of things or realized by experiment, tending to sustain their 
theory. 

Projects of civilization on this plan have been much 
talked of, and some have been attempted, but all have sig- 
nally failed. The results of such efforts were well brought 
out in a very careful and protracted examination of persons 
interested in such matters before a committee of the British 
Parliament in 1835. It there appeared that some mission- 
ary societies had pursued this method in certain cases, but 
in all without the least success ; that in some cases the 
hearts of the bands of artisans, sent out to civilize heathen 
tribes, had failed them before they had reached the scene of 
their labors, and where this had not been the case, they had 
met with no success at all. And it seems to me that such a 
result might have been anticipated from the beginning. 

The truth is, on such a plan, both the motives to labor, 
on the part of the agents employed, and the motives to 
reformation, on the part of those to be civilized, are quite 
inadequate to the demands of the case. Why should a mere 
artisan, or teacher even of human science, with no other 
motives than those drawn from this world, spend his days 
among filthy and degraded savages, when he might be so 



70 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

much more comfortable and successful at home? And what 
could he expect to accomplish if he should conclude to do 
so ? How could he hope, by any motives with which he is 
furnished, to induce the benighted barbarian to give up his 
wild habits, and adopt the quiet and peaceful arts of civiliza- 
tion ? The savage has his religion, or superstition, which to 
him is as sacred and authoritative as that of the Christian 
to him. Indeed, the grosser the superstition the more 
universal its connection with the life and conduct of its dev- 
otees. All superstitions deal largely with forms and cere- 
monies; they have a ceremony connected with every act 
and situation in life. Nay, they ascribe a large part of the 
acts of life directly to their gods. A given course of life 
thus becomes religiously sacred in their eyes. It is all asso- 
ciated with and sanctified by their religion. The gods who 
have preserved them hitherto, and prospered them, as they 
imagine, in their present mode of life, would be angry with 
them, they think, if they should change it. Thus, when a 
chief of one of the tribes of Indians in Upper Canada was 
urged by the governor to induce his people to give up their 
wandering habits, and devote themselves to civilized pur- 
suits, he promptly declined, saying, "Who knows but the 
munedoos (gods) would be angry with us for abandoning 
our own ways." 

There can be no improvement in life unless there is first 
an improvement in the religion. While one feels that his 
religion requires a certain mode of life of him, you labor in 
vain to induce him to change it. The religion must first be 
changed, and then the mode of life may be changed in ac- 
cordance. This is as certain as anything can be. How pre- 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN, 71 

posterous, then, to attempt to change the habits of savages 
to those of civilized men, while still under the influence of 
their old superstitions ! One religion can be displaced only 
by another. Civilization is no substitute for religion, and 
cannot take its place. It is the fruit of the Christian re- 
ligion, and can exist, at least in its higher forms, only where 
that exists. We come, then, to the same conclusion here as 
before, that men can be civilized only by being first Chris- 
tianized. False religions must be first displaced by the 
true, and then right modes of life may be substituted for 
those which are faulty. 

It is truly surprising that a view so false should have been 
retained so long, and after all that has transpired to refute it 
in fact should still be retained. From the time of Christ 
to the present the spirit of trade and of gain has carried 
civilized men to all parts of the earth, and brought them 
into contact with the uncivilized of every grade and nation. 
They have dwelt with them, traded with them, exhibited 
their modes of life before them, and exercised their arts 
among them; and yet, where is the nation, or individual 
even, in any part of the world, who has been civilized by 
these means ? Many have been corrupted thus, as all know, 
but we have yet to learn that any have been civilized. No ! 
neither the spirit of gain nor mere philanthropy can reclaim 
men from heathenism. Nothing short of the love of God 
in the soul, flowing out in love to man — nothing short of a 
conviction of the lost condition of man by nature,. and the 
necessity of a divine remedy for sin which has been provided 
in Christ, can furnish the motives and means requisite for 
evangelizing, and thus civilizing, the world. 



"^^2 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

And this is now, perhaps, universally admitted, in theory 
at least, by religious men. And yet is it always acted upon 
even by such? Are missionary operations always, even now, 
conducted wholly, and with full faith, upon the principle 
that evangelization must precede civilization ? Is not too 
much reliance still placed upon mere civilizing processes ? 
Is not teaching, as distinguished from preaching, of this 
nature? General education is unquestionably a civilizing 
rather than an evangelizing process. And can it succeed 
when resorted to previous to evangelization ? If what has 
been said is true, and the teachings of experience can be 
relied upon, it would seem that the missionary, in the earlier 
stages of a mission at least, should bend all his efforts to the 
conversion of those to whom he is sent. He should strive 
to first get their hearts right, to show them a better religion, 
and bring them personally to embrace it, and then the way 
will be prepared for general instruction and other civilizing 
processes. This was the way in which Christ and his apos- 
tles proceeded, and we must believe it will always be found 
to be the most effectual way. But I must pass to another 
view of our subject. 

Not only has philanthropy been placed before religion, but 
it has often been contended, and still is, more strenuously 
than ever perhaps, that philanthropy is all and religion noth- 
ing — that religion, properly, is only philanthropy. This, ev- 
idently, is an atheistic view ; for if there be no religion, then 
there can be no God. Yet perhaps it does not always imply 
quite as much as this. The old Epicurean idea of the 
Deity, as sitting in undisturbed repose, neither soliciting the 
services nor noticing the actions of men, is not yet quite 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 73 

renounced. There are multitudes even in Christian lands 
who regard God so habitually as afar off, and have so loose 
and vague views of their relations to him, that they hardly 
imagine themselves to owe him any duties or service. Nay, 
it is to be feared that there are professing Christians whose 
views of the divine requirements and of their personal obli- 
gations are so low that they scarcely conceive that their pro- 
fession of Christianity imposes on them any other duties 
than those which pertain to man. Christians of this sort 
are ever crying "morals," "works," "deeds of the law"! 
Their views are so low that they almost leave God out of 
the account. Are they preachers ? a riot or a fugitive-slave 
case is a perfect god-send to them, as furnishing a far more 
available text than can be found in Scripture. A temper- 
ance society, an anti-slavery society, and almost any reform 
society, is well-nigh as sacred in their eyes as the church. 
They have renounced the cure of souls for the cure of evils, 
and lost sight of God in their zeal for man. There is un- 
doubtedly a large and increasing class of those calling them- 
selves Christians who are of this character, in whom philan- 
thropy is usurping the first place — in whose minds it stands 
decidedly first, and is fast becoming all. 

But this tendency is not confined to the church, nor is it, 
perhaps, chiefly exhibited there. It is the effect of a pois- 
onous leaven now largely at work in society — the rank out- 
growth of a philosophy as deadly as the grave ; for philan- 
thropy, as a special cultus, must needs have its philosophy. 
This philosophy, variously denominated pantheism, natu- 
ralism, spiritualism, positivism, issues in the deification of 
humanity. Pantheism merges all in one ; and this one sub- 



74 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLTN. 

stance you may, as you please, denominate either God or 
Nature. For decency's sake it is usually denominated God; 
but it might as well be the one as the other, as far as the 
interests of virtue and religion are concerned ; for whether 
God or Nature it is no personality. This God or Nature 
comes to consciousness only in man and other sentient be- 
ings. Man, then, is God rising to consciousness, and taken 
in the endless succession of the race is the infinite and eter- 
nal God — indeed, the only God endowed with the higher 
attributes of intelligence. Man is thus deified, and deified 
in a higher and nobler sense than any other part of nature. 

According to this philosophy, to be sure, all things are 
divine — the trees, the rocks, the clods of earth ; but man is 
specially and pre-eminently divine — the noblest and the 
only adequate manifestation of God in his higher nature. 
While, therefore, the disciples of this school are devout wor- 
shipers of nature in all her forms, dwelling with wrapt devo- 
tion upon all her grand, inspiring and lovely objects, and 
not disdaining even the mean and the lowly — while they 
behold the Deity alike in the mountain and in the ocean, in 
the pumpkin and in the pigweed, they bow down with the 
profoundest reverence before man ; and man, of course, just 
as he is. For not only is man divine, but all his faults and 
follies — his passions, his lusts, his crimes, which cry for 
veno-eance, and all the unutterable thoughts and acts of 
wickedness. He is divine, every inch of him, and as such 
is, in his totality and with all his adjuncts, a fit object for 
our reverence and love. He is not merely commended to 
our sympathy as our fellow, but claims our devotion. 

No wonder that such a philosophy should produce a false 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



T5 



philanthropy. It wrests man from his natural relations and 
places him before us as an object of worship. It converts 
philanthropy into religion, and thus makes it all and in all. 
It fairly eliminates religion as anything more than philan- 
thropy. If a disciple of this philosophy worship at all, he 
must worship man ; for there is no other God for him to 
worship. Inanimate nature, as unintelligent, he can wor- 
ship in only a subordinate degree, and rising in his devotion 
through the different grades of animate beings, he reaches 
the highest object of worship in the most gifted of our race, 
and proclaims the consummation of devotion to be " the 
worship of genius." 

It is in doctrines like these, as I conceive, that much of 
the mock philanthropy of our times has had its origin. Not 
that these doctrines, in their integrity and fuH significance, 
have been very widely diffused in the community; but 
scraps and fragments of them have been thrown about in all 
directions by popular lecturers, pamphleteers, and newspa- 
per writers, till the public mind has become deeply tinctured 
with them. Men have been presented with the bright side 
of them, and have been caught by their glare. Of genuine 
philanthropy, begotten by right views of man and his rela- 
tions, there can hardly be too much ; but of this spurious 
philanthropy, our age has seen enough and more than 
enough. With all its pretensions it is yet a philanthropy of 
words rather than of deeds — either simpering and sighing 
like a sick girl, or swelling and swaggering like a bully. 
While its sentimental moods find expression in beautiful 
words or beautiful tears, its more energetic feelings vent 
themselves in violent declamation, wrangling and fisticuffs, 



T6 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



When it ceases to be pensive and musing, it becomes vio- 
lent and wrathful, and goes at the work of reform with a 
sort of Jehu-like vengeance and dispatch. This, plainly, is 
not the kind of philanthropy to reach and eradicate the 
deep-seated evils of the human heart. It is not the philan- 
thropy to carry one through privations, toils, and even 
death, for the good of others. By rejecting religion for its 
foundation it loses all its power — by assuming to be all, it 
really becomes nothing. 

But again — swinging to the other extreme after the man- 
ner of the human mind — it is sometimes maintained, that 
religion is all and philanthropy nothing. This view ignores 
humanity, as the former ignores Deity. Like that, and 
scarcely less fatally, it separates two elements which prop- 
erly belong together, and are wholesome when together, but, 
like disengaged gases, are noxious when apart. 

Of this sort is the religion of the dogmatist, who is so 
penetrated and possessed by the doctrine as to lose sight of 
its practical application. With him religion is all theory 
and no practice, all plan and no appeal, all law^ and no Gos- 
pel. It is thrown quite back from all contact with earth — 
shot quite over the world and its realities — and becomes 
little more than a doctrine of God and redemption as a 
scheme — a plan reaching from everlasting to everlasting. 
This is not, perhaps, a leading fault in the religious charac- 
ter and thinking of the present day — the tendencies now, 
indeed, are rather in the opposite direction — but looking 
back into the past, we see the sturdy dogmatist stalking in 
the dim distance, the most conspicuous figure on the stage 
of action. The Augustines, the Calvins, the Hopkinses 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 77 

and the Emmonses of the church stand out prominently in 
her history, and have exerted a controlling influence upon 
the general type and style of Christian character — a type 
of character, however, now fast passing away, and faulty as 
it has shown itself to be, not likely, perhaps, to be replaced 
by anything much better. 

The religion of mere sentiment and passive feeling is of 
this sort; that dainty, fastidious, quietistic religion, which 
flourishes only in the gloom of the cloister, or the dimly- 
lighted and softly-cushioned church — a religion which is 
nursed by pensive musings and solemn music, which glows 
amid the soft perfumes and luxurious furnishings of the 
parlor, or within the solemn walls of a convent, where the 
Babel-roar of the huge, weltering world is never heard. 
What can such a religion do for perishing man ? It may 
calm and soothe the breast of the possessor, but for all 
aggressive effect upon the evils of life and the powers of 
darkness it is utterly powerless ; with all its show of devo- 
tion it is little more than a species of refined self-indulgence. 
A Christian of this sort is too fastidious and dainty for phil- 
anthropic efforts; he shrinks from all contact with man, and, 
like the tortoise, drawing in and safely securing each extrem- 
ity within his impervious crust, he heeds not the roar with- 
out, till at length, aroused from his profound repose by 
extraordinary commotions, he timidly thrusts out his head 
to learn the cause, when, alas! too late, he finds himself and 
the whole community tossed by the convulsions of the final 
overthrow. 

Again, the religion of fashion, of form, and of studied 
propriety, is of this sort. This phase of religion piques 



78 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

itself upon its dignity and decorum. It moves among men, 
to be sure, but with a calmness and a reserve which are 
rarely attracted, and never ruffled by what is transpiring 
around. It is not so much fastidious as indifferent — it is 
proud rather than prudish. It can hardly be said, like that 
impartial messenger of which Horace speaks, to knock indif- 
ferently at the door of the hut and the palace, but wherever 
it does enter it maintains a dignity and a propriety which 
are altogether above criticism. It is so decorous and polite 
that it would not for a world disturb a slumbering con- 
science, nor raise an unpleasant emotion in any breast. 
Every public service is a lesson in politeness and propriety. 
Young men bow down before it, and old men do it rever- 
ence. Indeed, it is a special favorite with the "silver grays," 
and may always calculate upon the support of the " upper 
ten " ! 

This religion of dignity, propriety and form, of course can 
have but little to do with philanthropy. It is altogether too 
bustling and exciting a business, if not too vulgar. To visit 
an almshouse, to preach to the poor, to enter a brothel, to 
cast devils out of Magdalens, to go to a temperance meet- 
ing, to reclaim inebriates, or rush into a crowd to rescue a 
fugitive slave, just to be dragged back into bondage, but ill 
befits the calm decorum and profound formality of the pet 
preacher of the fashionable classes. Such a preacher must 
deal but little with religion, and entirely eschew politics ; 
and politics he will find it convenient to interpret as embrac- 
ing about everything pertaining to the moral and social con- 
dition of man. He must not preach against slavery, for this 
would be disturbing the compromises of the constitution 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 79 

(now, indeed, rather badly disturbed, anyhow), and would be 
likely to endanger the Union, and thus ruin the trade — in 
cotton and other things — between the North and the South. 
He must not preach on temperance, for this might lead to 
a war over the wine-bottle and the rum-jug, in which war, 
very probably, some of his own dear parishioners might suf- 
fer ! Nor must he preach on licentiousness, for this would 
be altogether too indecent a subject for the pulpit, and quite 
likely by implications might hurt the feelings of some of his 
hearers ! He would thus be completely shut up unto faith, 
for he would be obliged to dwell wholly in ideal regions, 
touching upon nothing whatever which seriously affects 
life and conduct. He would, in short, be like the minister 
we have read of — and who so greatly pleased his hearers — 
that had nothing to do with either politics or i^ligion ! 

But, thank God, religion is not always exhibited thus in 
caricature. It is not always found dissevered thus in its ele- 
ments, and presented in a one-sided, distorted and fantastic 
form. Pure religion and undefiled is not, we hope, without 
its witnesses in all parts of the Christian world. It is found 
in all its robustness and beauty in many a heart. It is seen, 
at the same time, drawing its support from God, and bestow- 
ing its blessings upon man. It is the ornament of many of 
the fairest characters of our race, and the source of bless- 
ings unnumbered wherever it goes. Bringing the soul into 
intercourse with God, and transfusing it with the calmness, 
the grandeur, and the beauty of heaven, it inspires a love 
for our fellow, and confers on him an importance, of which 
mere worldly philanthropy has no conception. To such an 
one philanthropy is no godless work, it is the natural fruit 



So 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



of a pious heart, and invested with all the sacredness of a 
high religious duty. While philanthropy, without religion, 
is either sentimental and simpering, or noisy and extrava- 
gant, the philanthropy which flows from true piety is calm, 
gentle and diffusive, embracing all in the arms of a univer- 
sal love. A mere worldly philanthropy can, at best, but 
imitate its forms, without ever reaching its spirit. What- 
ever excellence it has it owes to the general prevalence and 
influence of Christianity. And yet, with a singular spirit of 
ingratitude, it often puts on airs, and parades itself in invid- 
ious contrast to religion — like the Hottentot youth (to 
adopt an illustration of Dr. Franklin, applied to the infidel- 
ity of Thomas Paine), who, when he has attained to manly 
years, turns around and beats his mother as evidence of his 
manhood. Philanthropy is so bright a jewel that it is sure 
to be worn — if not by the Christian, yet by the infidel, and 
with all the greater ostentation, like the tawdry ornaments 
of a harlot. Let the Christian, then, retain what so clearly 
belongs to him, and which appears appropriate and lovely 
only in his keeping. 

Young gentlemen, as the future pastors of churches, and 
the representatives of the religious character of a section of 
the Christian community, I commend to you this large and 
comprehensive view of religion, which makes it embrace all 
that is excellent in practice, as well as all that is generous in 
sentiment and noble in character. Let it be seen, in your 
case, that religion is no abstract, unworking principle, sev- 
ered from everything in life, and fit only for the cloister. 
Let religion be in you indeed, a fountain of living water, 
springing up unto everlasting life. Let it flow over and 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 81 

flow out, irrigating all the heritage of God; and keeping 
the fountain full by constantly drawing upon the inexhaust- 
ible Fountain above, it will overflow continually. Thus 
filled and urged by the love of God, you will each of you 
realize in your lives, in a sense infinitely higher than was 
originally intended by it, the truth of that renowned saying 
of antiquity already alluded to, "I am a man, and therefore 
am interested in whatever is human." While you will not 
make so serious a mistake as to place the cure of particular 
evils above the cure of souls, you will yet feel an interest in 
whatever promises to improve the condition, or mitigate the 
sufferings of man. While your sympathies will stretch 
across oceans and continents, and embrace with special af- 
fection and unutterable yearnings the millions upon whom 
not even the first rays of the Gospel, nor scarcely of philan- 
thropy, have ever fallen, you will not forget the suffering 
and the outcast at home. The poor will receive your sym- 
pathy and aid, the ignorant your instruction, the victims of 
intemperance and lust your admonitions and counsels, and 
the slave your earnest advocacy and prayers. 

Place before yourselves for imitation the noblest speci- 
mens of whole-hearted and large-hearted Christianity which 
the history of the church presents; — a Howard, who, moved 
by Christian love, spent a whole life and a large estate in 
the most laborious and painstaking acts of benevolence ; 
who, while he aroused all Europe by traversing its length 
and breadth that he might " dive into the depths of dun- 
geons and plunge into the infection of hospitals," and thus 
bring to light their untold tales of woe, at home, in his lit- 
tle village of Cardington, gladdened the hearts of the peas- 
II 



82 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



antry by building for them cottages, establishing schools for 
their instruction, and mitigating their sorrows in all possible 
ways ; — a Wilberforce who, while he pursued with an en- 
ergy and a sagacity which command our admiration, that 
great measure of his life, and of modern times, the abolition 
of the slave trade, did not disdain to write books on practi- 
cal religion, and even to keep his mind furnished with top- 
ics and trains of religious remark, so as to be able to mete 
out to each one a word in season; — a Judson who, though 
possessed of a natural delicacy and refinement of nature, 
and highly accomplished as a gentleman and a scholar, was 
yet, by the grace of God, enabled to relinquish kindred and 
home, and all the amenities of civilized life, and bury him- 
self in the depths of Eastern jungles, amid the most de- 
graded specimens of our race, that he might tell them of 
Christ, translate for them the Word of God, and in conjunc- 
tion with others lay among them the foundations of a Chris- 
tian civilization, which, with the blessing of heaven, shall 
one day light up the Orient with splendors above those of 
the midday sun ! 

But these and all other worthies fade away before the 
Great Master who is proposed to us as the highest object 
for our imitation. They do but say to us, in the language 
of the Apostle, " Be ye followers of me, as I am of Christ." 
All human excellencies are but feeble reflections of his. 
The character of Christ, as presented in the Gospels, is the 
most attractive portraiture in the world's history. With 
such a character, invested with such divine and saving 
power, well may he have said of himself, "And I, if I be 
lifted up, will draw all men unto me." Christ lives in his 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



83 



followers, and the history of the world is brightly illuminated 
along the line of his true disciples. The youth who early 
receives Christ as his Savior and Exemplar, and follows 
up by subsequent study the line of his influence in the 
world, moves among the noblest examples and the most in- 
spiring influences presented in the history of the race. 
It is in the midst of such influences and examples that the 
fairest characters are formed. The church and the world 
are looking to the ranks of religious young men, who have 
enjoyed the advantages of high Christian culture, for the 
lights which are to enlighten the world. May they not look 
in vain! 



BISHOP BUTLER 

% 

REPRINTED FROM CHRISTIAN REVIEW 

JULY, 1854 



BISHOP BUTLER. 



Memoir of the Life, Character and Writings of Joseph Butler, etc. By 

Thomas Bartlett, a.m. London: J. W. Parker. 1839. 
The Analogy of Bishop Butler, with a Life of the Author, etc. By William 

Fitzgerald, a.m. Dublin : James McGlashan. 1849. 
Prelections on Butler's Analogy. By the late Thomas Chalmers, d.d., ll.d. 

Works, Vol. ix. New York: Harper & Brothers. 1850. 
A Systematic Analysis of Butler's Analogy. Part II. By the Rev. Henry H, 

Duke, B.A. London; Joseph Masters. 1847. 

The last twenty-five years have witnessed a most striking 
and gratifying change in the popular appreciation of Butler 
as a moralist and Christian philosopher. His "Analogy," in- 
deed, was never entirely destitute of marks o^ public favor, 
having passed through three editions during his lifetime, 
and a regular succession of editions afterward. But as a 
moralist he has, till of late, had but few followers. He 
formed no distinct school, but for generations stood almost 
alone — a giant in the midst of surrounding pigmies. Even 
Mackintosh could say of him, in his day, "There are few 
circumstances more remarkable than the small number of 
Butler's followers in ethics ; and it is, perhaps, still more 
observable, that his opinions were not so much rejected as 
overlooked." This neglect he attributed to the difficulties 
of his style; but not, as it seems to us, with entire justice. 
Butler's style, it is true, does not possess all the graces of 
the most accomplished masters of the English language, but 
it is generally good, plain English, notwithstanding. His 
words are proper and his constructions correct and idio- 

8" * 



88 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



matic. Indeed, h^ is occasionally elegant, presenting passa- 
ges here and there, not unworthy of the best writers. 

Dr. Whewell,* with more justice, as we conceive, has 
ascribed the intricacies and difficulties of Butler, beyond 
what are necessarily involved in his matter, to his method of 
philosophizing — to his strict adherence to the simple gen- 
eralization of facts, without committing himself to any par- 
ticular theory for their explanation. He does not adopt a 
theory, and thus render its vocabulary of short, technical 
terms available to him in speaking of the various phenom- 
ena which are referred to it ; but keeping aloof from all the- 
ories, and hence rejecting all technical terms, he is obliged 
at every turn to repeat a kind of definition or description of 
the thing intended. Such a method, while it gives rise to 
circumlocutions and repetitions in the presentation of his 
subjects, is the genuine method of the discoverer — it is pre- 
cisely that of Bacon, and justly entitles him to the appella- 
tion which he has received, of "the Bacon of Theology." 
His exteme cautiousness on this point, as well as an equal 
cautiousness, by proper limitations and sufficiently wide gen- 
eralizations, to secure his principles from all objections and 
make them truly adequate to his subject, has given rise, as 
we conceive, to all, or nearly all in Butler's writings, which 
can be complained of as unnecessarily perplexing or obscure. 
He is said to have remarked to a friend, that his plan in 
writing the "Analogy" had been "To endeavor to answer, as 
he went along, every possible objection that might occur to 
any one against any position of his, in his book." And 
this seems to be the spirit in which he always wrote. The 

* Hist. Mor, Philos. in England, Sec. viii. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



89 



very difficulties and obscurities of his style, then, are but 
the evidence and effect of the excellence of his method, and 
the breadth and completeness of his treatment. 

Defensible, however, as are the obscurities of Butler's 
style, they have undoubtedly had no inconsiderable influence 
in retarding his progress to general appreciation and favor. 
But this tardy justice, we are persuaded, has been more 
owing to extraneous circumstances than to anything in the 
style of Butler. The central point of Butler's moral system 
is conscience, or a moral faculty, which, under the form of a 
moral sense, had been brought into disrepute, more espe- 
cially by Shaftesbury. Conscience, to be sure, as treated by 
Butler, is distinct enough from the moral sense of Shaftes- 
bury and Hutcheson, but as being a distinct faculty was lia- 
ble to be confounded with it, and to be reglh-ded with the 
same suspicion. This prejudice would naturally tend to di- 
vert attention from his system, and keep the dominant sys- 
tems of Clarke and Wollaston in the ascendant, till the 
utilitarian system, which from the time of Hobbes had 
enjoyed no inconsiderable share of the public favor, was 
molded into a more plausible and decorous form by Paley. 
This once accomplished, Butler was more and more lost 
sight of. From the undoubted merit of his other writings 
and the easy perspicuity with which he delivered his moral 
precepts, as well as from their dexterous adaptation to ordi- 
nary wants, Paley became at once the text-book at the uni- 
versities, and the standard for moral reference in every-day 
life. Paley's ascendency was thus complete, and remained 
almost unchallenged for a long series of years. At length, 
however, his defects began to be very generally felt, and in 

12 



90 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



looking around for a better rtiaster, all the soundest minds 
turned at once to Butler; so that now the reaction in his 
favor has become almost universal, both in this country and 
in England. The books at the head of this article are a 
portion of the fruit of this newly-revived zeal for Butler, and 
are placed there as evidence of this, rather than for distinct 
review. We shall simply make them a hook to hang a few 
general observations on, touching Butler and his works. 

And, in the first place, it is remarkable how little these 
fresh investigations have added to the extremely scanty me- 
morials of his life. They have corrected a few dates, added 
a few not very important facts, and discovered a few letters 
not before published, but have scarcely thrown a single 
additional ray of light upon his private habits and internal 
history. All inquiry upon this point, respecting which light 
is so much desiderated, seems to have been provokingly 
fruitless. We can hardly be reconciled to knowing so little 
of the intellectual habits of one whose mental experience 
must have been so rich and varied. We really begin to feel 
that modern biography, filled as it too often is with details 
ad nauseam, is not so great an evil, after all ; for had it ex- 
isted in the days of Butler, it might, as it does now, have 
chronicled the stupidities of many a dunce, but would, in all 
probability, have more than atoned for this, by giving us 
some adequate memorials of a life and character so intensely 
interesting and instructive. The magnificent intellectual 
products which he has left, indicating a mind of the greatest 
depth and candor, and the few glimpses which we get of his 
pure and amiable life, whet the curiosity to the keenest edge 
for more and more varied information in regard to him. 



■JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. ^^ 

But oblivion has forever barred the access to such informa- 
tion. Living a bachelor all his days, and naturally of a 
timid, retiring, and even melancholy disposition, he held his 
chief converse with those profound and pregnant thoughts 
which give so solemn and venerable an air to his pages, and 
notwithstanding his high station, apparently came but little 
into contact with men. Such being the case, we must rest 
satisfied with the scanty memorials of his life which have 
been left us, grateful that we possess his works so complete, 
from which we may not only gain the choicest wisdom, but 
fill out with the most undoubting confidence the ideal of a 
character of the rarest excellence and beauty.* 

The works of Butler have now been before the world con- 
siderably over a century, and it is remarkable how few of his 
principles have been invalidated by the exp^ience and criti- 
cism of so long a period. The general result, indeed, as 
already observed, has been a growing conviction of the cor- 
rectness of his principles, and appreciation of their impor- 
tance. Assuming, as he does, the defense of virtue and 
piety, and throwing himself into the breach to arrest the 
progress of vice and infidelity, he stands exposed to the ma- 
lignant attacks of all the enemies of righteousness ; he pre- 
sents a barrier to such, which they must demoHsh before 
they can advance any further. No wonder, then, that he 
has been closely scanned and violently assailed. Many an 
assailant has walked around the walls and scrutinized them 
narrowly, for some indefensible point at which he might 
scale them or open a breach, but generally without the 

* There are three portraits of Butler known as originals, of which that taken at forty, 
by the celebrated Vanderbank, and published in Bartlett's Memoirs, is the most ap- 
proved, and presents a striking combination of grace, benignity and intellect. Bonum, 
virum facile crederes, magnum libenter. 



92 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

slightest success. We propose briefly to consider some of 
the objections which have thus been made to our author, 
and estimate their value. 

These objections have been chiefly made against the 
"Analogy." No considerable objections have been urged 
against Butler's moral system. Mackintosh decides that 
there are no errors in this, though he thinks there are some 
defects — such as, that he neglects to assign any ground for 
the supremacy of conscience, or any objective rule for its 
action. These, we think, will hardly be regarded as valid 
objections at the present day. As to his having overlooked 
the evidence of the secondary character of self-love, which 
is another supposed defect referred to by this critic, we con- 
sider this rather the effect of his occasional and fragment- 
ary method of treating morals, than as any real oversight. 
There can be no doubt that he fully understood and allowed 
the secondary character of this affection, and would have 
signalized it in a suitable manner in any full treatise on the 
subject ; indeed, as it is, it is more than implied in several 
instances.* With the exception of the " Dissertation on the 
Nature of Virtue," all Butler's moral treatises are in the form 
of sermons, admirably developing all the great principles, 
but without any pretense of covering and exhausting the 
whole subject. We should naturally expect some omission 
of details in such a mode of treatment. Indeed, this method, 
besides breaking the unity of his system, has undoubtedly 
damaged the reputation of Butler as a moralist in other re- 
spects. Sermons are not the most attractive species of lit- 
erature to most readers, and are particularly unpromising as 

* See especially his first sermon on the Law uf our Neighbor. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 93 

the vehicle of a philosophical system. Undoubtedly this 
has had its full" share in retarding his progress to that full 
and high appreciation as a moralist, which he deserves. 

But the chief exceptions taken to Butler have been against 
his "Analogy," of which the first is this : — That the course 
of nature has been so altered by the fall as to leave no safe 
ground for an analogy between it and the system of grace. 
But the course of nature is still God's Providence, is still 
Divine Providence, and the world is God's world ; and as 
long as this is the case, there must be just ground for an 
analogy between the systems of nature and grace. What- 
ever may have been the effects of the fall upon the course 
of nature, it is absurd to suppose them to be such as to 
make it a false or unsafe interpreter of the character and 
will of God. Indeed, natural religion is professedly founded 
upon nature as it is, and its teachings, as far as they go, are 
not at all at variance with those of revealed religion. At 
all events it is allowed that the effects of the fall are con- 
fined chiefly or solely to man and his relations, and hence 
do not touch the oreneral framework of nature and course of 
Providence ; and it is from these confessedly intact parts of 
nature that some of Butler's most weighty analogies for the 
special peculiarities of the remedial system are drawn. 

Again, it has been objected to the "Analogy " that it only 
shifts the difficulty from revealed to natural religion, and 
thus puts weapons into the hands of the atheist for the over- 
throw of both. What is sustained by nature may, in a gen- 
eral sense, be said to be natural, and hence analogy may be 
regarded as bearing particularly upon natural religion. But 
whatever be the religious teachings of analogy drawn from 



94 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



nature, they are of course null to an atheist, who not believ- 
ing in God can not believe in religion. With him, there- 
fore, the apparent disorders in nature are regarded as real, 
and used by him as an argument against the existence of 
God and religion. Now, supposing this to be the necessary 
deduction from Butler's argument by an atheist, the argu- 
ment is still valid against the deist, and all other objectors, 
who must always constitute the great majority of unbeliev- 
ers. But this is not the necessary nor even the natural 
effect of his argument upon the atheist. By considering 
these disorders as only apparent, as being parts of a scheme 
too vast and complicated for our feeble comprehension, he 
reconciles the mind to their consistency and justice, and 
thus wrests from the atheist the arguments which he draws 
from this source against God and natural religion, as well as 
those of deists against the Christian religion. 

Again, it has been objected to the "Analogy" by Tholuck,* 
that it runs an analogy between the course of nature and 
the kingdom of grace, while it ought in consistency to be 
directly between the two kingdoms. This objection is 
rather technical than real. Indeed, it is almost founded 
upon a misrepresentation. Butler draws his analogies not 
only from the course, but from the constitution of nature. 
He takes nature in all its parts, as it exists, as a fact, and 
draws out the grand parallelism which exists between it and 
religion ; he confronts the book of nature with the book of 
revelation through their whole extent. Nature is viewed as 
a kingdom just as much as grace is. They both have a con- 
stitution and a course — one just as much as the other, and 
may, therefore, be legitimately compared with each other in 

* Quoted by Fitzgerald. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



95 



both these respects. But if Tholuck's meaning is, as per- 
haps it is, that both nature and rehgion are treated too 
much as facts, and too little as twin products of a common 
generating plan, then his objection resolves itself into a 
mere preference for a transcendental and speculative mode 
of treating the subject, instead of an accessible and practi- 
cal one. Butler had too much good sound sense, and too 
much of the Baconian respect for facts, to attempt to go 
behind both nature and grace, and develop them from a 
common generating plan in the divine mind. The thing 
objected to, then, is what all sound practical thinkers will 
regard as his grreatest excellence. 

On the other hand, some particular arguments of the 
"Analogy " have, as we think, been assailed with success — 
particularly the argument for the oneness of tfle living agent, 
from the oneness of consciousness, and that for the exist- 
ence of God, from our necessary conceptions of infinite 
space and time. But these arguments are not at all essen- 
tial to his general conclusions, and indeed, are not his own, 
but Dr. Clarke's, reluctantly acquiesced in and adopted (as 
we learn from his early correspondence with that distin- 
guished philosopher and divine), and not put forth with any 
promfnence or much confidence. These two arguments, 
together with another from the chapter on the Moral Gov- 
ernment of God (that in justification of our being created 
with a capacity for evil), are subjected to a most searching 
criticism in " Duke's Analysis." As to the objection of Chal- 
mers, and other Scottish metaphysicians, against Butler's 
occasional use of analogy as a positive argument, this will 
be considered at a later stage of this article. 



96 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



Having disposed of these objections to Butler's principles 
we are prepared to proceed to the principles themselves. 
His principles constitute what may be called a moral system 
and a religious system. The former is contained in his 
" Sermons at the Rolls " and the " Dissertation on the Na- 
ture of Virtue," and the latter in the "Analogy." We pro- 
pose briefly to illustrate the central principle of each system 
— Conscience and Analogical Reasoning. 

There are three great classes of perceptions, or intuitions, 
which present themselves under a striking similarity of char- 
acter, and have always been associated in men's thoughts 
and their expression of them — the perceptions of the Good, 
or Right, of the Beautiful and of the True. The True 
is conceived as embracing whatever is real in existence, 
whether material or logical, whether in fact or in thought ; 
the Right, whatever is fitting in action to the relations sub- 
sisting among beings ; the Beautiful, whatever in nature or 
in action is fitting in proportions, or mode, or attending cir- 
cumstances. The faculty by which we apprehend Truth is 
Reason, that by which we apprehend Right is Conscience, 
and that by which we apprehend the Beautiful is Taste. 
They all, evidently, belong to the general principle of intel- 
ligence, since they are only so many forms of knowing, but 
are rightly distinguished as different faculties, since they 
each perform a different office, or apprehend things under 
different relations. A development of the similarities and 
differences between these powers and their objects will tend 
to fix the place of conscience, and establish its co-originality 
with the other two faculties. 

In attempting to define the Right, the Beautiful, the True, 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



97 



it was necessary to state vaguely, at least, what they are con- 
ceived to be ; but strictly they are each incapable of defini- 
tion. We may doubtless learn by experience something of 
the circumstances under which our faculties pronounce a 
thing true, or right, or beautiful, and thus make out a toler- 
able description of the conditions under which they decide, 
and may call this a definition ; but this is only for our own 
convenience, and to meet the necessities of the case. Thus 
we say, reason pronounces that true which has a real exist- 
ence, either in fact or conception; and that truth, therefore, 
is what is real. But this is a mere hypothesis. Whether 
what the reason receives as true is real, or only seemingly 
so, we can never determine. It seems real, doubtless ; but 
this is only saying that it seems true. That is to say, the 
reason receives a thing as true simply became it recognizes 
it as true, and not because it knows its essential nature. So 
if we say the reason receives that as true which is presented 
to it in the legitimate use of the senses, of the memory, of 
the judgment, etc., this is only describing the circumstances 
under which it receives truth, not at all the criterion of it. 
Hence we come to the result that, as in all our original per- 
ceptions, truth is susceptible of no real definition, except an 
identical one ; and all that we can say of it is, that truth is 
what is received as such by reason. 

The same holds of the beautiful and the right. For the 
sake of convenience we describe them in a loose way, as 
consisting in a certain fitness or harmony of things. But 
whether there really be any such fitness in them or not, we 
can never positively determine. What we recognize as 
right or beautiful seems, each in its own sphere, to possess 
13 



98 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



a certain fitness; but we are -confessedly not judges of the 
absolute fitness of things. The fitness referred to is simply 
a moral or aesthetic fitness, and is merely the conception 
which we have of the character of the ri^ht or the beautiful. 
Hence we do not recognize anything as right or beautiful 
because it is fit, but conceive it as fit in that it is right or 
beautiful. So if we attempt to define these perceptions by 
enumerating the conditions under which they arise, we are 
only stating the circumstances under which they emerge 
into consciousness, not describing their nature nor account- 
ing for them. Here, then, as in the previous case, right can 
be defined only as that which is recognized as such by con- 
science, and the beautiful only as that which is recognized 
as such by the taste. The True, the Right and the Beauti- 
ful, therefore, represent original perceptions, and Reason, 
Conscience and Taste appear as original powers. 

But let us attend to some real, or supposed, differences 
between the action of these powers. Conscience, it is said, 
is not simply a discerning, but an impelling, or a command- 
ing and forbidding power. And are not the other powers 
so too, at least to some extent? The language of conscience 
is, " This is the way, walk ye in it " ; and is the language of 
reason or taste anything less than this.? Does not reason 
say, just as distinctly, if not as authoritatively, " This is the 
truth, conform ye to it " ? and taste, " This is the beautiful, 
admire and imitate it " ? And would not a man act just as 
absurdly who should discern the true or the beautiful, and 
pay no regard to it in his conduct, as the man " who knows 
his duty and does it not " ? The man who, understanding 
the law of gravity, should throw himself from a precipice, or, 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. ^9 

perceiving the beauty of graceful manners, should assume 
those of a clown, would be as inconsistent as he who, know- 
ing the duty of honesty, refuses to pay his debts. 

Still, it may be said, besides the apprehension of right 
and the impulse to it, various emotions or moral feelings, 
such as approbation, disapprobation, indignation, remorse, 
etc., are connected with the decisions of conscience, or 
rather, with the observance or violation of its rules. And 
are there not emotions, also, connected with the operation of 
the other powers ? The emotions, in each department of 
our nature, seem very much dependent upon our general 
conceptions. It is plain that there could be no such thing 
as emotions if there were no notions of truth, duty, etc., 
since the very knowledge of all the particular things capa- 
ble of producing emotion is comprehended ill these. Even 
the discovery of abstract truth is attended with emotion, 
often the most intense, as witnessed in the ettreka of Ar- 
chimedes, and the particular objects which the passions go 
out after must first be apprehended intellectually before 
they can be enjoyed sensually. Indeed, while the desire for 
such objects cannot exist before they are perceived, in very 
many cases it springs up at once on their perception, and 
does so in all cases, after experience of their power to grat- 
ify. And as to the emotions connected with the beautiful, 
these confessedly spring up immediately in consequence of 
its perception. A man of taste sees everything as beautiful 
or deformed, and the perception always awakens with it cor- 
responding emotions. The pleasures, and the vexations of 
taste, too, are familiar to all. It seems, then, that there still 
remains a general analogy between the three powers and 



100 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN: 

their concomitants. The moi-al feelings are but a natural 
appendage to the moral faculty, as the other classes of de- 
sires and emotions are to the other powers. 

And yet there is a difference. It must be admitted, with 
Plato, that the passions are more especially the ministers of 
conscience. Conscience has to do with actions, and there- 
fore needs their aid more than either of the other powers. 
As our eternal weal or woe, as well as our present happiness, 
depends upon our conduct, and as others are affected by it 
also, it is much more important that we should be made to 
follow the dictates of conscience, than those of either reason 
or taste. Besides, it has the Right to maintain among con- 
flicting interests and principles of action, and hence has a 
more diiTficult part to perform. Accordingly we might ex- 
pect that all the motives for obedience to conscience would 
be brought to bear upon us which can be thus brought con- 
sistently with freedom of choice. We are not forced to 
obey conscience, since this, by destroying our freedom, 
would destroy all virtue, and thus render the obedience 
worthless. But we are impelled to obedience by the most 
weighty motives ; by a command sterner and more impera- 
tive than any other of which our nature is susceptible, by an 
approbation, a peace calmer and sweeter than any which 
earth affords, and by a fear of punishment more withering 
and a remorse more pungent and torturing than anything 
this side the world of woe. At the command of conscience, 
the passions, like so many avenging spirits, spring up to tor- 
ture the contemner of its authority. Shame crimsons his 
face and guilt pierces his heart; Remorse rends his soul like 
an evil spirit ; Fear haunts him by night and by day ; In- 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 101 

dignation and Revenge frown upon him from the faces of 
his fellows ; dread Displeasure looks down upon him from 
above, and all the Avenging Passions pursue him as so 
many Furies. Thus it is that the passions are more espe- 
cially the ministers of conscience. The commands of con- 
science are the most authoritative and the most powerfully 
enforced of any of our impulses. Our nature accords to 
them the highest place among the impulses to action, and 
pronounces all contravention of them by interfering pas- 
sions, usurpation. And thus with our author we may truly 
say of conscience, that " had it strength as it has right, had 
it power as it has manifest authority, it would absolutely 
govern the world." 

Right, then, appears as a simple, original quality of ac- 
tions, and conscience as an original power, presiding with 
authority over the moral relations of things, as reason does 
over their veritable relations, and taste over their aesthetic 
relations. But as laborious attempts have been made, and 
still are made, to reduce the idea of right to some more sim- 
ple idea, and especially to that of utility, we shall devote a 
few paragraphs to the consideration of such a possibility. 

The doctrine of utility as a principle of morals has re- 
ceived various forms, and has been variously applied by dif- 
ferent speculators. In Hobbes, it is a bold and shameless 
resolution of all virtue into the lowest form of selfishness ; 
in Shaftesbury, it becomes a more decorous and defined 
principle of self-love ; while in Paley and Bentham it swells 
into that vague and ideal end, not only of all action, but of 
all existence, the principle of general utility, or the greatest 
good of the greatest number. But in all these forms there 



102 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

is a common element; they all ' resolve virtue into happi- 
ness, and make right only another name for utility; while, at 
the same time, by assuming happiness, either public or pri- 
vate, as the great utility, they make happiness the grand end 
of life and the sole criterion of virtue. The question will 
be met, therefore, if it can be shown that the Moral Faculty 
sits in judgment upon the moral character of happiness, as 
it does upon other elements of conduct, and thus makes it 
but one of many considerations, which it embraces in its 
determinations of the morality of actions. This, therefore, 
we hasten to show. 

It is admitted that one element of happiness, and a most 
important one, too, consists in self-approbation, and the ap- 
probation of others; not simply in the approbation of cer- 
tain actions of ours, but in the approbation of ourselves, 
also, on account of these actions. We do not speak of the 
satisfaction or gratification which one feels when he has 
done merely a wise act, as when he has made a good bar- 
gain, or used his wits successfully in disentangling a compli- 
cated plot, but of a positive approbation of one's self as 
havino- done well, even when he has done nothino; for him- 
self, and has exerted no wisdom or prudence at all ; as in 
plunging, without thought of self, into the water to rescue 
another from drowning, or any other act of pure benevo- 
lence. The utilitarian moralist delights to resolve all acts 
of benevolence into acts of selfishness, and would say that 
even such acts as the above are performed upon a refined 
calculation of the satisfaction and approval which he fore- 
saw would follow them. Let him do so, if he can take 
pleasure in thus stultifying himself for the sake of defaming 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



103 



his kind ; but it is plain that his explanation is wholly at 
variance with the facts in the case, and especially does not 
at all account for that peculiar self-approbation and public 
approbation which accompany such acts, on the special 
ground that they are generous, noble acts, and free from all 
taint of selfishness. Whence, then, comes this approbation ? 
Why does he approve himself and others for such acts, while 
he disapproves those of an opposite character? Can any 
other answer be given to this question, than that he approves 
of some acts and disapproves of others, because he feels the 
former to be right and the latter to be wrong? The happi- 
ness of self-approbation and public approbation, then, de- 
pends upon the rightness of our actions, and not their right- 
ness upon the happiness which they bring. For surely it 
would be reasoning in a vicious circle to sa^ that the happi- 
ness connected with an action depends upon its rightness, 
and yet that its rightness depends upon its capacity of pro- 
ducing happiness. 

As to other kinds of happiness, besides that which arises 
from the moral approbation of ourselves or others, some of 
it is simply innocent, and some of it is regarded as decid- 
edly, and even heinously, wrong. Not simply the acts, we 
mean, but the happiness itself connected with the acts, is 
disapproved as wrong. This is the case with most selfish 
and sensual enjoyment, especially when it is at the expense 
of others — as the enjoyment of the drunkard, of the deb- 
auchee, etc. That is, happiness itself is approved or disap- 
proved as right or wrong ; how then can it be the source of 
the idea of right ? 

Again, it is right to promote the happiness of others and 



104 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



wrong to injure them, or interfere with their happiness. 
But it is not, certainly, deemed right to promote all kinds of 
happiness in men. Some kinds of happiness in others ap- 
pear immoral, as they do in ourselves, and such we cannot 
minister to and be innocent. Even genuine benevolence to 
others, as sacred a duty as it is in general, is limited, at 
least as far as the outward act is concerned, by higher duties, 
and becomes wrong when it goes beyond that limit. All 
which goes to show that happiness, instead of being the 
source of the idea of right, is itself judged of by the Moral 
Faculty, like other acts and states. That is, the idea of 
right and wrong is supreme and ultimate within this sphere, 
as within others. 

The truth is, the coincidence of Right even with the 
Greatest Amount of Happiness, is a mere speculation, in- 
teresting enough, and perhaps probable in itself, if we regard 
the final issue of all things. But to say that the notion of 
right and wrong in the mind is determined in each case by 
a view of the utility of the act, in any sense, or that the 
consideration of consequences can be a sufficient rule of 
action to guide our lives, seems to us absurd. For how can 
the consequences be calculated ; and especially, how can they 
be calculated with the rapidity which is necessary in the 
practical conduct of life ? 

We are thus brought to the central principle of Butler's 
Moral System, the independence and supremacy of Con- 
science among the different principles of action. This, we 
say, is really his central principle ; and the supremacy of 
conscience is developed with masterly ability and distinct- 
ness, though its independence is rather assumed than estab- 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 105 

lished, or even asserted with any steadiness or emphasis. 
At the time he wrote the terminology of morals was in great 
confusion, as well as its principles.* Not only were ethical 
writers divided as to whether there is any independent prin- 
ciple of morality, but as to the name which should be given 
it, admitting its existence. While, on the one hand, moral- 
ity was referred to the Principle of Utility or the Will of 
God, as well as to a Moral Faculty, on the other, the Moral 
Faculty was variously denominated Right Reason, the 
Moral Sense, and Conscience, besides other occasional and 
periphrastic designations. In this unsettled state of things, 
Butler did not choose to commit himself in terms to any of 
the conflicting theories, but seems, rather, in some passages, 
anxious to conciliate them. But the whole structure and 
weight of his system is in favor of the exislfence of a moral 
faculty and an independent morality, although he does not 
describe it as such in set terms. 

We now pass to Butler's Religious System. This is not 
so much a system of doctrines as a system of defenses of the 
commonly received doctrines of religion, both natural and 
revealed. It is entirely unique in character, and contained 
wholly in his treatise on the "Analogy of Religion to the 
Constitution and Course of Nature." 

The single principle of defense employed in all parts of 
the treatise is that of analogy or likeness among things- 
The principle is evidently used with great moderation and 
fairness, and yet it may be well to fix its true nature and 
use somewhat more definitely than has been done by the 
author. In a passage in the introduction he declines, as for- 

* See Whewell's " History of Moral Philosophy in England," Lecture viii. 
14 



^^^ JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

eign to his purpose, the instituting a systematic inquiry into 
the nature and uses of analogical reasoning, and devolves 
that duty upon the logicians. This duty has not been alto- 
gether neglected by that class of writers,* and accordingly 
its nature and limits are now as accurately determined as 
those of any other species of reasoning. 

Analogical reasoning is a species of induction; or, more 
properly, is of the nature of induction — is an incomplete 
induction. In induction proper, two things agreeing in one 
or more properties are inferred to agree in a certain other 
property, which is shown to be invariably conjoined in one 
of the things with the property or properties which it has in 
common with the other; while in analogy it is only neces- 
sary that this third property should not be capable of being 
shown not to be connected in one thing with the qualities 
in which the two agree. Thus, in one case, the inference of 
further agreement is made with certainty, in the other, with 
only a certain measure of probability ; — in the one the con- 
clusion is that the third thing must follow, in the other that 
it may. And this probability must vary in different cases, 
from the lowest presumption, or a bare possibility, to the 
highest moral certainty. The inference of further agree- 
ment between the two things resting wholly upon their ob- 
served likeness in certain properties or circumstances, the 
probable truth of the inference must depend wholly upon 
the nature of the observed likeness. If the observed like- 
ness be such that the inferred likeness would naturally, and 
almost unavoidably, flow from it, as where two things are 
observed to be alike in a fundamental property, and are in- 

* See especially "Mill's System of Logic," book iii, chap. xx. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 107 

ferred to be alike in a property derived from this, or the 
reverse, the inference is made with the highest moral cer- 
tainty ; but where the observed likeness is only slight and 
unimportant, any further likeness is inferred with feeble 
probability. But every observed likeness is some warrant for 
inferring a further likeness, since things alike in anything 
are more likely to be alike in another thing, than those 
which have nothing in common. And, on the same princi- 
ple, every dissimilarity is some warrant for inferring a fur- 
ther dissimilarity. Hence, the real strength of an analog- 
ical inference depends upon the extent and importance of 
the similarities between two things, compared with the ex- 
tent and importance of their dissimilarities. 

With this explanation of the nature of analogy, we are 
prepared to appreciate the application whicll has been made 
of it by our author. It is employed by him in defense of 
the doctrines and evidence of religion, chiefly against objec- 
tions, but occasionally as a positive argument. The legiti- 
macy of its use in repelling objections on this subject, no one 
can doubt; nor can any one doubt its triumphant success, 
who will patiently follow the author through the treatise. 
The case stands thus: — Religion, as an institution and a sys- 
tem of doctrines ordained of God, is objected to by men as 
unreasonable and inconsistent in many parts, and it is pro- 
posed to repel these objections by showing that the like ob- 
jections may be made against nature and the present course 
of things, which are now allowed to be from God. It is 
asked how religion, which has so many objectionable feat- 
ures, can be from God, and it is answered, that these objec- 
tionable features are just as consistent with the idea of its 



108 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



being from God, as the like features in nature are with its 
being from God. The two systems, then, the material and 
the spiritual, the present and the future, are shown to be 
alike in objectionable features, and they are inferred to 
be alike in their origin. The argument does not profess to 
prove that either of the systems is from God, but that one 
can not be denied to be from God, on account of objection- 
able features, unless the other be ; and this it is fully com- 
petent to do, and does do, beyond the possibility of a reply. 
It is sufficient thus to have indicated the nature of the argu- 
ment in its negative or defensive form ; the ingenuity and 
thoroughness with which it is applied can be learned only 
by a perusal of the whole treatise. 

As to the argument in its positive form it is but little 
used in any part of the work. It is capable, however, of 
being used thus, as is evident from the account which has 
been given of the nature of the principle of analogy. The 
most extended application of it in its positive form is to be 
found in the first chapter of Part First. There the object 
is not so much to repel objections against the doctrines of 
a future life by analogies from the present, as to render the 
fact of our existence beyond death probable. Hence the 
analogies from the transformations of plants and animals, 
and from the continuance of life in man through various 
mutilations, suspensions of the signs of life, and the wasting 
of disease up to the moment of death. These analogies 
certainly render it probable that the living agent will survive 
death. They do not simply remove opposite probabilities, 
as contended by Dr. Chalmers ; they give a positive credi- 
bility to the doctrine. With some acknowledged imperfec- 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



109 



tion in certain links of the argument no one can rise from a 
careful perusal of the chapter without feeling that the doc- 
trine is something more than "not disproven," that it is, in- 
deed, nearer to what is called "proven," though not, of 
course, established demonstratively and beyond all cavil. 
At all events, it is plain that analogy may have a positive 
force, and it seems to us that it has in this and many other 
parts of Bishop Butler's treatise. 

But, after all, it is admitted that the great force of anal- 
ogy, as applicable to the subject of religion, is defensive, and 
hence conservative in its effects. And it is precisely this 
which has given to the treatise of Bishop Butler, from the 
moment of its first appearance to the present time, its ac- 
knowledged pre-eminence among all the books which have 
been written in defense of religion. It co«ifounds the cav- 
iler, it checks the reckless speculator. Those upon whom 
the interests of morality and the other great interests of 
society rest are always conservative. From the nature of 
the case they always must be. Not that the truth and the 
right are always on the side of conservatism, but great in- 
terests must not be jeoparded by sudden changes; and espe- 
cially things practically good must not be surrendered too 
hastily for what is asserted to be theoretically better. This 
is the universal cry of reckless speculators — they always 
profess to have discovered some better way a way more con- 
sonant with reason, and free from the inconsistencies and 
absurdities of that in practice. But the really responsible 
men in society are always chary of theories ; their motto is, 
"Prove all things: hold fast that which is good." And in 
matters of religion they find no more powerful auxiliary in 



11^ JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

doing this than Butler's "Analogy." It tends to prevent a 
reckless spirit of speculation on the subject, and throws up 
an impregnable rampart before the sterner doctrines of re- 
ligion which are more likely to be objected against. 

We know of no author who has shown so clearly the 
incapacity of man to speculate upon these high subjects. 
If the presumption and arrogant pretensions of man can 
ever be humbled, they must be before his wide-sweeping and 
far-reaching analogies. He bids the daring critic of the 
works and ways of God go on with his reveries, and fill out 
his amended system of things, and then in the simplest and 
quietest way possible shows him that he has no faculties for 
such speculations, and that his scheme is a mere series of 
imaginings, proposed as a substitute for the veritable facts 
of nature. He refers the hardy objector against the doc- 
trines of religion to the like things in the providence and 
dealings of God here; and justifies the ways of God to man 
implied in religion, by an appeal to what he actually experi- 
ences in this life. To the supercilious caviler, confident in 
his shallow wisdom, he presents both the system of things 
with which we have come in contact, and that which is re- 
vealed to us, as but fragments of an infinitely larger scheme, 
and hence as little susceptible of rational criticism from us 
as the fragment of a demolished statue, or a few detached 
wheels and springs of a complicated machine. 

It is a little remarkable, too, that in nothing has Butler 
been more successful than in his defense of the sterner doc- 
trines of religion. Where religion is most liable to be ob- 
jected against, there, precisely, is analogy the strongest. 
Nature is always serious, and often stern. It gives little 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. Ill 

countenance to that mawkish sentimentality which would 
disrobe God of all his severer attributes, and subject him to 
the control of the single principle of sympathy or benevo- 
lence. And it is one of the greatest merits of the "Anal- 
ogy " that it brings out in all its strength this confirmatory 
testimony of nature to the sterner aspects of the character 
of God and religion, as revealed in the Scriptures. Butler 
undoubtedly betrays, at times, some meagerness, and per- 
haps defectiveness, in his views of Christian doctrines, es- 
pecially of the distinguishing doctrines of grace, but he saw 
too clearly the teachings of analogy to shrink from the doc" 
trines of a controlling principle of righteousness in the char- 
acter of God, and a state of punishment for the wicked in 
another world. The chapters which treat of these subjects 
are argued with great fullness and ability, lind are among 
the most successful in the treatise. 

Butler's "Analogy " has been a highly honored book. It 
has been more universally admired for its depth and thor- 
oughness than any other book on the same, or perhaps any 
other subject. It has received the homage and acquiescence 
of the best minds in every age since its appearance. It has 
done more to shield religion from the ruthless attacks of its 
enemies, and drive back the Vandal hosts of infidelity from 
our altars — we had almost said — than all other books put 
together. Nor is its mission yet completed. It is as much 
needed now as ever, and as well adapted as ever to guard 
our faith, and will remain, we doubt not, to the end of time, 
one of the chief bulwarks of its defense. 



DANIEL WEBSTER 

AS A 

STATESMAN AND AN ORATOR. 



DANIEL WEBSTER AS A STATESMAN AND 

AN ORATOR. 



The Works of Daniel Webster, six volumes, 8vo, Boston : Charles C. Little and 
James Brown, 1851. 

The works of Daniel Webster form a legacy such as 
has rarely been left to the American people — a legacy pe- 
culiarly precious, because perfectly indigenous — all Amer- 
ican, without the least foreign air or savor about it, and red- 
olent in every part with the sweet hopes and memories of 
our native land, her institutions and laws, ^or am I sur- 
prised that our richest legacy should have fallen to us in 
this shape, and our greatest man have developed himself in 
this line. Dissociated both by our position and institutions 
from all the great nations of the earth, and without a vener- 
able antiquity of our own to awaken the interest and ambi- 
tion of the historian, or fill and garnish the imagination of 
the poet, while we are too practical and too much pressed 
with the wants of a young people to allow of a high degree 
of either metaphysical or aesthetic culture, there is still in 
our condition and institutions the most imperative demand 
for statesmanship and oratory. 

As among the ancient Greeks, to be a statesman was con- 
sidered merely as acting the part of a good citizen, so with 
us, every good citizen is expected to know something about 
politics, and to be prepared to bear an honorable and useful 
part in managing the state. We are a popular, constitu. 

115 



116 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

tional government, consisting of about thirty affiliated states, 
bound together in a national Union by a general government 
of limited powers, and sustaining complicated and delicate 
relations to the integral units composing the Union. Ours 
is strictly a government of law, and not of force ; everything 
is adjusted by law, and all public, and most private, ques- 
tions are settled, and can be settled, only by legal discus- 
sions. Where military rule exists, the sword settles all 
questions ; there is no need of talk — the less talk the bet- 
ter ; there is not even a word with the blow, but the blow is 
dealt in silence, and the work all the more effectually done. 
So, too, in great measure, in all arbitrary governments. 
When a ruler can say, " I am the state," why should he al- 
low his subjects to discuss matters ? And when less arbi- 
trary than this, he still allows the privilege to but few, and 
to these only in a given line. Despotism is simple, but con- 
stitutional government necessarily embraces a complicated 
system of laws, forms and precedents. And when we add 
to this that our government is not only legal, but popular — 
that it is created and administered by an agency periodically 
appointed by the people, we see what a field it opens for the 
display of popular eloquence. In our courts of justice the 
speaker finds his eloquence demanded and aided by the 
presence of a jury; in the legislative hall, by interesting 
questions, conflicting views, and able opponents; while at 
our political elections he is stimulated almost to madness by 
the dense crowds of upturned faces which surround him. 

With its complicated and nicely adjusted system of laws, 
its popular courts, popular legislatures and popular elec- 
tions, no country in the world ever presented such a field 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 117 

for eloquence as ours, and hence is the natural mother of 
such a son as Daniel Webster. Mr. Webster was pre-emi- 
nently a statesman and an orator. Statesmanship was the 
great business of his life, the grand resultant of all his intel- 
lectual activity, to which his profound legal and other attain- 
ments were only subservient. Excluding, therefore, other 
views which might be taken of his character, I purpose, in 
this paper, to offer a few observations upon the character 
of Daniel Webster as a Statesman and an Orator. 

And at the outset we are struck with the perfection in 
which he combines in himself this double character. Mr. 
Webster's oratory was always statesmanlike, and his states- 
manship always dignified, and adorned with oratory. His 
oratory was almost always employed upon great state-ques. 
tions. No orator of his times devoted his Aoquence so ex- 
clusively to the state. Most of his celebrated legal argu- 
ments hinge upon constitutional questions, and even his 
political speeches have little that is trivial or merely partisan 
in them, but treat of great national questions, usually in a 
cool, dispassionate way. I shall not, then, attempt to dis- 
criminate these two characters ' in him, nor care to inquire 
very closely, in each case, whether my illustrations apply to 
him in the one or the other character — I shall rather, prac- 
tically, consider the two characters as one. 

The first thing which strikes one in the speeches of Mr. 
Webster is the great dignity and importance of the matter. 
The greatness and dignity of his mind are reflected in 
nearly all his speeches. His mind scorned and rejected a 
mean, or low, or trivial subject, as a sound stomach does 
poison. But whatever it received, though in itself of but 



lis JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

common importance, it raised, by- its own encircling majesty, 
to the dignity of uncommon things. I doubt if another 
case can be pointed to, of an orator, having occasion to 
speak on so many and widely-differing occasions, through 
the period of a long life, and often under strong temptations 
to cater to a low and depraved taste, who so uniformly se- 
lected important topics, and treated them in so manly and 
dignified a style. 

But above this, his great efforts were all on great subjects. 
There is no factitious greatness about his speeches ; they 
are merely full, lucid, able and ample discussions of subjects 
in themselves great. Their greatness consists in being 
equal to their great subjects — in being adequate and appro- 
priate exhibitions of matters of which most minds have but 
faint and meager conceptions. There is rhetoric in them, 
doubtless, but only such as the subject demands, and the 
absence of which would be a fault rather than a virtue ; it 
furnishes the fit relief and adornment to subjects of so vast 
and grand proportions. Open his works, and carefully 
turning over the leaves, observe, as you advance, the sub- 
jects and manner of his discourse. Commencing with those 
splendid and elaborate discourses on the early history, wor- 
thies and monuments of our country, you fall in succession 
upon his many speeches on our manufactures, our com- 
merce, our currency, our religion, our laws, our Constitution 
and our Union. When did an orator have such materials to 
select from } and when select so nobly t You will find no 
such list of subjects in the synoptical table of the speeches 
of any other orator, living or dead. 

Indeed, in perusing these speeches, one is conscious of an 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 119 

involuntary feeling of gratitude, that all these grand ques- 
tions arose in Mr. Webster's day, and have been discussed 
by him for all coming time. For myself I confess to 
a very strong feeling of that kind. In his " Patriotic 
Speeches," as they have been called, such as deal with the 
early history and worthies of our country, how vast the ser- 
vice which he has done for the American people and for 
mankind ! These speeches forever rescue from oblivion, 
and invest with a high and glorious immortality the priva- 
tions, the sufferings and the daring of our noble ancestors. 
They give a voice, and an all-potent one, too, to the early 
events of our history, which, without them, for aught that 
could have been accomplished by ordinary minds, must have 
remained comparatively dumb and silent. Articulated by 
such a voice, and dignified and adorned b^ such an elo- 
quence, they are safely consigned to the keeping of the great 
heart of humanity, which will never fail to cherish and imi- 
tate them. 

And to say nothing of the other great subjects which en- 
gaged his eloquence, who does not rejoice that Daniel Web- 
ster lived to discuss, in all its forms, and under almost every 
conceivable aspect, the nature, value and means of preserv- 
ing our glorious Constitution and equally glorious Union.'* 
Notwithstanding the censure which some parts of his 
course on this subject have drawn upon him, and perhaps 
with some justice, his services as an advocate and defender 
of our Constitution and Union, are undoubtedly pre-emi- 
nent above those of any other man, and the American peo- 
ple will always owe to him a debt of gratitude, which they 
can never (were they better disposed to than we fear they 



120 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



now are) fully discharge. He early saw and felt the vast 
importance of the Union to the people of these states; he 
early studied, and never through life ceased to study, its na- 
ture and powers, and furnished himself with facts and argu- 
ments for its elucidation and defense. So that, while we 
find in all his speeches, from the very first to the very last, 
the expression of some timely hope, or fear, or appreciating 
sentiment about this much-cherished union — forming to- 
gether a coronet of gems of which any brow might be proud 
— there were occasions when the whole majesty and inten- 
sity of his great soul were poured out upon this subject in a 
torrent of scathing argument and burning eloquence, which 
nothing could resist. 

A truly great mind, in the course of a lifetime, usually 
meets with some fitting occasion for the display of its high- 
est powers. Such an occasion for Mr. Webster arose when 
the monster Nullification reared its hideous form in the Sen- 
ate of the nation, and threatened to rend the Union asun- 
der. Creeping stealthily for a time among the marshes of 
morbid, sectional feeling, and growing by what it fed on, it 
at length thrust its head into the halls of the national legis- 
lature, in the debate on Foote's resolution, and was afterward 
charmed in, and exhibited at full length, in the famous Re- 
solves of Mr. Calhoun. The crisis had come, and who 
should meet it ? There was but a single man there equal 
to the task, and that man was Daniel Webster. There were 
many true and faithful men there, who would vote right on 
the question, many who would make a respectable argument 
against the doctrine in debate, but only one who could meet 
and settle it forever — only one, who, from his courage, his 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



121 



transcendent abilities, his readiness in debate, and complete 
mastery of the subject, could gather his armor hastily about 
him, and take the field at a moment's warning. All eyes 
were turned to him, nor did he disappoint the public 
expectation. 

The two speeches of Mr. Webster on this subject, in the 
Senate of the United States, the first, in reply to Mr. Hayne, 
in the debate on Foote's resolution, and the second, in reply 
to Mr. Calhoun, on the Force Bill, not only met the crisis 
externally, but actually ; yes, triumphantly, gloriously. The 
mind that follows him through those speeches is not only 
exhilarated and delighted as it passes along, but when it 
reaches the close, shuts the book with a concussion, from an 
impulse of spasmodic joy, and lays it down with an inten- 
sity of conviction, and an absorbing, bewildCTing sense of 
admiration, which overwhelm, and almost benumb its pow- 
ers. There is a fitness, a fullness, a brilliancy, a cogency, in 
those speeches, which take the mind captive. There are 
passages in them, before which the mind actually stands in 
awe. As, for instance, in the reply to Mr, Hayne, where, in 
the midst of a most terrific torrent of sarcasm, which the 
nerves are scarcely able to bear, by referring to what might 
be the effect upon him of a certain degree of provocation, 
and thus implying that he was then speaking with compara- 
tive coolness and tameness, he flashes a gleam of light upon 
a depth of wrathful indignation and scornful ire, before 
which one actually trembles : — 

Sir, I shall not allow mj'self, on this occasion, I hope on no occasion, to 
be betrayed into any loss of temper ; but if provoked, as I trust I never 
shall be, into crimination and recrimination, the honorable member may 
i6 



122 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

perhaps find that, in that contest, there, will be blows to take as well as 
blows to give ; that others can state comparisons, as significant, at least, 
as his own, and that his impunity may possibly demand of him whatever 
powers of talent and sarcasm he may possess. I commend him to a pru- 
dent husbandry of his resources. 

Of all Mr. Webster's speeches, the two on this subject are 
undoubtedly his greatest. And of these, while that in reply 
to Hayne has the greatest personal interest and point, and 
excites the highest degree of admiration, that in reply to 
Calhoun is perhaps the most compactly argued, and exhib- 
its the greatest solidity of talent. Mr. Webster always rises 
with the occasion. The greater the crisis, the greater his 
courage ; the higher the theme, the loftier his flight. In- 
deed, he seems much more at home on great questions than 
on small ones, and meets them far more adequately. A 
lofty region is far better suited to the constitution of his 
mind. He feels more in his native element in these upper 
regions, and moves more gracefully and easily. Being con- 
stitutionally of a somewhat lethargic temperament and 
heavy mold, he was aroused only by great subjects, and on 
small ones often made still smaller efforts. Hence it is that 
all his great speeches are on great subjects — great either in 
themselves, in their associations, or in their bearings. And 
this, more than anything else, shows the greatness of his 
mind. 

Another marked characteristic of Mr. Webster's oratory 
is found in the general tone of his speeches. That this tone 
would always be elevated might be inferred from what has 
already been said. But beyond this there are certain inter- 
esting features or variations in the general tone, which de- 
serve special attention. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 123 

And, in the first place, Mr. Webster's speeches are 
strongly characterized by a patriotic tone. Indeed, there 
are certain of his speeches, and these among his most cele- 
brated, which are so filled and pervaded by this spirit as to 
have received the designation of "Patriotic Speeches"; such 
as his Plymouth discourse, his Bunker Hill speeches, and 
his eulogies on Adams and Jefferson, Washington, etc. 
In these he goes back to do honor to our self-denying and 
heroic ancestry, and the illustrious band of patriots who 
achieved our independence — to rekindle his own patriot- 
ism, and that of the nation, at the altars of our early mar- 
tyrs and heroes. And as we follow him in those splendid 
discourses, now depicting the sufferings and sacrifices of the 
early settlers on these inhospitable shores, of "chilled and 
shivering childhood, houseless, but for a Another's arms, 
couchless, but for a mother's breast," now summoning from 
their tombs the shades of our illustrious heroes, and em- 
balming their memory with a nation's tears, and now raising 
his eyes to the future, and saluting the rising generations as 
they come, bidding them welcome to this pleasant land of 
their fathers, we find ourselves rapt up to something the 
same height of patriotic enthusiasm as the speaker, and are 
ready with him to approach the tomb of Warren, and pour 
out our lamentations in that touching apostrophe to the 
departed hero, which in tenderness and pathos is scarcely 
equalled by the happiest inspiration of the Tragic Muse: — 

But ah ! Him ! the first great martyr in this great cause ! Him ! the 
premature victim of his own self-devoting heart ! Him ! the head of our 
civil councils, and the destined leader of our military bands, whom noth- 
ing brought hither but the unquenchable fire of his own spirit ! Him ! 
cut off by Providence in the hour of overwhelming anxiety and thick gloom ; 



1^^ JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

falling ere he saw the star of his country rise ; pouring out his generous 
blood like water, before he knew whether it would fertilize a land of free- 
dom or of bondage! — how shall I struggle with the emotions that stifle 
the utterance of thy name ! Our poor work may perish, but thine shall 
endure ! This monument may molder away ; the ground it rests upon may 
sink down to a level with the sea ; but thy memory shall not fail ! Where- 
soever among men a heart shall be found that beats to the transports of 
patriotism and liberty, its aspirations shall be to claim kindred with thy 
spirit ! 

And not only in these speeches devoted to patriotic rec- 
ollections, but in all his speeches, his patriotism shines forth 
conspicuously. There is everywhere, both in his words and 
deeds, unmistakable evidence of an intelligent and genuine 
patriotism ; he allowed no occasion of evincing it, either in 
act or in speech, to pass unimproved. 

Indeed, there was a wholesome national feelingr in Mr. 
Webster, which we should like to see more universally ex- 
hibited by public men. There was no foreign air or savor 
about him. As he said of Washington, his character is 
wholly an American product. He sprung from a sound 
republican stock, and he proved himself worthy of his par- 
entage. His education, his way of thinking and feeling, 
and all his tastes and habits, were American. Not that he 
had a contempt for what is not American, or participated in 
the vulgar prejudices against foreign nations, or overesti- 
mated our relative position in the scale of nations. While 
he was enlightened and fair-minded with regard to other 
nations, he was equally enlightened and fair-minded with 
regard to his own. He had neither the partiality which 
blinded him to the faults of his country, nor the foreign 
learning which made him exaggerate her faults, or magnify 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 125 

the advantages of other countries at her expense. Mr. 
Webster carried this feehnor with him into his business as a 
statesman, and, like all sound, practical statesmen, uniformly 
acted upon that profound principle announced to the Athe- 
nians by Demosthenes, more than two thousand years ago, 
" That the prosperity of their state would be best promoted 
by following domestic, not foreign, examples." In the like 
spirit Mr. Webster says, in his speech on General Jackson's 
Protest, " Our American questions must be discussed, rea- 
soned on, decided and settled, on the appropriate principles 
of our own constitutions, and not by inapplicable precedents 
and loose analogies drawn from foreign states." And this 
accurately exhibits his general spirit as a statesman. 

Mr. Webster was national, also, in another sense of that 
word. That is, he was not a sectional man, out embraced 
the whole Union in his views and desires. If any man 
could set up a claim of loving the Union more than others, 
Mr. Webster was that man ; for he said and did more for it 
than any, and we had almost said, every man of his age. 
And notwithstanding all that has been said to the contrary, 
I will not yet believe that regard for the Union had nothing 
to do with his speech on the Compromise Measures, which 
has been so much complained of. How stood the case with 
us at that time ? The Union was not, perhaps, immedi 
ately in danger. Mr. Webster, as far as we have been able 
to ascertain, nowhere says that he thought so ; but that sec- 
tional and party feeling had become so excited ^nd exas- 
perated on the questions arising out of the acquisition of 
new territory, and kindred questions, that unless soothed 
and tranquilized by certain compromises it would inevitably 



126 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



lead to disunion. And considering the nature of the ques- 
tions agitated, and the inducements and facilities for form- 
ing a southern republic (an idea not wholly abandoned, it is 
evident, even now), we confess that we do not greatly disa- 
gree with Mr. Webster on this point. At least, considering 
all the circumstances in the case, and the fact that many 
other great and good men thought the Union in danger, it 
is but fair to consider that Mr. Webster thought so too. 
And if he did, we put it to any candid, fair-minded man, if 
he did not, in the main, act rightly in the premises. The 
statesman cannot control Providence, he does not make 
events, but takes them as they are, and makes the best of 
them. His business is practical, and as long as evil exists 
in the world it must often be a choice between evils. If 
there was, at the time referred to, on the one hand the dan- 
ger of disunion, and on the other the danger of strengthen- 
ing the slave-power, here, plainly, were two evils to choose 
between; which of the two should a wise statesman have 
chosen ? Great as is the curse of slavery, frightful as is the 
array of evils following in its train, will any one, looking at 
the interests of humanity as a whole, or even to those of the 
slave, in the end allow, I do not say the original introduc- 
tion of this curse, but a temporary augmentation of its 
power, to overbalance in his mind the evils which would 
flow from the sundering of these states ? Blasted and pur- 
blind must be the sight which could see things thus. 
Where would the slave be in that case.'* Helpless and 
hopeless in the hands of his taskmaster, and subject at any 
moment to be marched off to Mexico or Cuba, or the Lord 
knows where, to meet the demands of an aggressive and 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



127 



expanding slave republic. And if it be added to this, that 
the slave-power has not yet been at all strengthened, as far 
as any actual extension of slavery is concerned, by the pas- 
sage of the Compromise Measures, and probably never will 
be, as Mr. Webster strenuously maintained would be the 
result, who will undertake to condemn the statesman for his 
course.? or, rather, who will fail to honor him for it.? There 
are some things in that speech, as well as in the speeches on 
the same subject, which he delivered in various parts of the 
country, immediately after that, that I could wish were differ- 
ent, but with his general course on this question, under the 
circumstances, I cannot find it in my heart to complain. 

Another feature in the pervading tone of Mr. Webster's 
speeches is a sound and intelligent love of liberty. We see 
this in his love and admiration for its defender^ and martyrs, 
both in our own and in other lands. It burns in every line 
of his Patriotic Speeches ; it adds warmth and grace to his 
speeches on Greece and the Panama Mission ; it comes out 
in his efforts for the Hungarian exiles, and shines forth con- 
spicuously in all his acts and sayings during the whole 
course of his life. Witness its outbursts in his indio^nant 
rebukes of the maligners of the South American Republics, 
in his speech on the Panama Mission : — 

We are told that the countiy is deluded and deceived by cabalistic 
words. Cabalistic words ! If we express an emotion of pleasure at the 
results of this great action of the spirit of political liberty; if we rejoice 
at the birth of new republican nations, and express our joy by the com- 
mon terms of regard and sympathy \ if we feel and signify high gratifi- 
cation that, throughout this whole continent, men are now likely to be 
blessed by free and popular institutions ; and if, in the uttering of these 
sentiments, we happen to speak of sister republics, of the great American 



128 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



family of nations, or of the political system and forms of government of 
this hemisphere, then, indeed, it seems, we deal in senseless jargon, or 
impose on the judgment and feeling of the community by cabalistic words ! 
Sir, what is meant by this ? Is it intended that the people of the United 
States ought to be totally indifferent to the fortunes of these new neigh- 
bors ? Is no change in the lights in which we are to view them to be 
wrought by their having thrown off foreign dominion, established independ- 
ence, and instituted on our very borders republican governments essen- 
tially like our own ? .... If it be a weakness to feel a strong interest in 
the success of these great revolutions, I confess myself guilty of that weak- 
ness. If it be weak to feel that I am an American, to think that recent 
events have not only opened new modes of intercourse, but have created 
also new grounds of regard and sympathy between ourselves and our 
neighbors ; if it be weak to feel that the South, in her present state, 
is somewhat more emphatically a part of America than when she lay ob- 
scure, oppressed and unknown, under the grinding bondage of a foreign 
power ; if it be weak to rejoice when, even in any corner of the earth, 
human beings are able to rise from beneath oppression, to erect them- 
selves, and to enjoy the proper happiness of their intelligent nature — if 
this be weak, it is a weakness from which I claim no exemption. 

But, it has been objected, Mr. Webster was in favor of 
founding government on property, and always advocated 
that view of the constitution which gave the largest powers 
to the general government, and these views are not favora- 
ble to the largest liberty. As to this founding of govern- 
ment on property, of which so much has been said by his 
enemies, let us see what it amounts to. We are not aware 
that Mr. Webster refers to this subject but twice, in any of 
his speeches or writings. He refers to it in his speech 
on the Basis of the Senate, in the convention to amend 
the constitution of Massachusetts, and in his Plymouth 
discourse. 

In the first case he contends that, since the representa- 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 129 

tion in the House was based upon polls, it would be wise 
and proper, for the purpose of giving it a somewhat differ- 
ent constituency, and thus making it a more effectual check 
on the other branch, to base the representation in the Sen- 
ate on the aggregate of property; so that, while the one 
body represented the individuals of the state, the other 
should represent the property of the state. This, it will be 
perceived, is a very different thing from proposing that only 
men of property should be admitted to full citizenship, and 
made eligible to office, which is the common impression that 
has been given of his views on this subject. And consider- 
ing that a free government must always be one of checks 
and balances, we see not why such an arrangement would 
not be quite as wise and as consistent with ^neral liberty, 
too, as that actually adopted. 

Where Mr. Webster alludes to this subject in his Ply- 
mouth discourse, he is speaking of the bearing of the laws 
for the descent and transmission of property upon the free- 
dom of a government, and of the fortunate arrangement and 
happy effect of the laws on this subject in our own country. 
Having discussed the bearings of the division of property 
upon government, and shown that free governments can 
exist only where property is free in its transmission and 
alienation, he makes this general remark, as a sort of maxim 
for legislators, and a test of political wisdom under all cir- 
cumstances : — "It would seem, then, to be the part of polit- 
ical wisdom to found government on property; and to estab- 
lish such distribution of property, by the laws which reg- 
ulate its transmission and alienation, as to interest the 
great majority of society in the support of the government." 
17 



130 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



That this is a general remark, and not a rule by which he 
supposed our government might be advantageously re- 
formed, is evident not only from all that precedes it, but 
also from what immediately follows it. He goes on to say: 
" This is, I imagine, the true theory and actual practice of 
our republican institutions. With property divided as we 
have it, no other government than that of a republic could 
be maintained, even were we foolish enough to desire it." 
The founders of our government, then, had established the 
requisite laws on property for maintaining, and even render- 
ing necessary, the form of government which they set up, 
and hence were wise legislators, according to his maxim. 
The laws of property which they established are so free, and 
property in consequence is so widely diffused, that, in the 
general sense in which he used the term, our government 
actually is founded on property. 

As to Mr. Webster's view of the powers of the general 
government of the Union, it is not true that he advocated 
the largest construction for them. He simply contended 
that it should have, and ought to use, all that belonged to 
it — neither more nor less. Doubtless he claimed for it 
more than Nullification allowed it, but then it should be re- 
membered, he with equal vehemence denied it what General 
Jackson and some others have claimed for it. He claimed 
for it, to be sure, the power of creating a national bank, 
of laying a protective tariff, and carrying on internal im- 
provements. But it was only because he thought these pow- 
ers belonged to it, and ought not to be relinquished. He 
drew these powers both from an obvious construction of the 
constitution itself, and from the history of its formation and 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. IBl 

early operation. And I must say that I have never seen his 
arguments, on most of these points, fairly refuted. Whether 
it may be wise or not for the general government to exercise 
these powers is another question, but that they are fairly 
within its scope, we think Mr. Webster and others have 
clearly shown. It was the great effort of Mr. Webster's life 
to maintain the constitution and laws of the country in 
their original integrity, and if this be a fault, it is one in 
which he had good reason to glory. 

Again, Mr. Webster's speeches exhibit a striking moral 
tone. Perhaps no eyes, save those of envy and slander, ever 
detected anything beyond venial faults in the life and con- 
duct of Mr. Webster ; but however this may be, there can 
be no doubt of the high moral tone of his writings. Like 
all great orators, he everywhere recognize^ and does due 
homage to the principles of virtue and religion. He is 
another illustration of the truth, that every truly great ora- 
tor must have in lively exercise, at least the instincts of vir- 
tue. Nothing but this will carry him to the height of a great 
argument. 'Nothing but this will attract him to those store- 
houses of truth and fields of illustration, which contain the 
materials for investing his theme with a commanding inter- 
est and dignity. Nothing but this will enable him to com- 
mand, at the same time, the hearts and the heads of men, and 
thus carry with him their highest and warmest convictions. 
Mr. Webster undoubtedly had these instincts in a very high 
degree and in very lively exercise. He had a sound moral 
training in his youth, was through life a frequent reader of 
the Holy Scriptures, and, as many who best knew him be- 
lieve, a devout Christian. His moral culture was certainly 



132 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

remarkable, and produced the mpst striking effects upon his 
eloquence. How often he surprises and delights us by a 
happy Scriptural allusion or quotation ! and how often he 
ennobles his argument by investing it with the sanctions of 
morality and religion, of God and of goodness! In the only 
direct personal collision which he ever had with Mr. Cal- 
houn, in which the latter had thrown out certain vague, un- 
defined charges against him, he gives a terrible energy and 
point to his retort, by adding to it the weight of Scripture 
authority : — 

I think we read, sir, that one of the good spirits would not bring against 
the arch-enemy of mankind a railing accusation ; and what is railing but 
general reproach, an imputation without fact, time, or circumstance ? 

While all his speeches are sprinkled over with these moral 
touches and allusions, there are several which are remarka- 
ble for their moral and religious tone, especially his Eulogy 
on Jeremiah Mason, and his speeches in the Girard will 
case, and the trial of the Knapps. In the first of these 
there is a passage of great solemnity and interest, which 
would do honor to the heart of the devoutest Christian. As 
it expresses more directly and fully, perhaps, than any pas- 
sage in his works, his own solemn convictions on the subject 
of personal religion, it may well be quoted here: — 

But, sir, political eminence and professional fame fade away and die 
with all things earthly. Nothing of character is really permanent but vir- 
tue and personal worth. These remain. Whatever of excellence is 
wrought into the soul itself belongs to both worlds. Real goodness does 
not attach itself merely to this life ; it points to another world. Political 
or professional reputation cannot last forever ; but a conscience void of 
offense before God and man is an inheritance for eternity. Religion, 
therefore, is a necessary and indispensable element in every great human 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 1^^ 

character. There is no living without it. Religion is the tie that connects 
man with his Creator, and holds him to his throne. If that tie be all sun- 
dered, all broken, he floats away a worthless atom in the universe \ its 
proper attractions all gone, its destiny thwarted, and its whole future noth- 
ing but darkness, desolation and death. A man with no sense of religious 
duty is he whom the Scriptures describe, in such terse but terrific language, 
as living " without God in the world." Such a man is out of his proper 
being, out of the circle of all his duties, out of the circle of all his happi- 
ness, and away, far, far away, from the purposes of his creation. 

The speech in the Girard will case was entitled by its 
author, in the pamphlet edition published at the time, " The 
Christian Ministry and the Religious Education of the 
Young." It is an argument for placing education upon a 
Christian basis, and the importance and necessity of the 
Christian ministry in a Christian scheme of education. As 
Mr. Girard had expressly excluded all Christian ministers, 
not only from all part in the management, but even from 
entering on the premises, of the orphan school, to be 
founded according to his will in the city of Philadelphia, 
Mr. Webster took the ground before the court that a be- 
quest made under such conditions was not, in the eye of the 
law of a Christian country, properly a charity, and therefore 
not entitled to the ordinary legal protection which charities 
enjoy against the claim of the heirs at law. It is the noblest 
argument on this subject, and the noblest tribute to the 
value of Christian institutions, that any statesman of our 
country, or, perhaps, of any country, has left. It excited 
the greatest interest at the time, and called forth not only 
the admiration and commendation of individuals' all over 
the country, but even of some religious bodies. The sub- 
ject is wholly religious in its bearings, and is treated through- 
out in the most impressive and solemn tone. 



134 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

It is on the general doctrine of Mr. Girard's will that the 
minds of the young should not be preoccupied or preju- 
diced, as it is usually termed, by religious instruction, but 
should be left blank on this subject till they arrive at matu- 
rity, that they may form their religious views for themselves 
— a doctrine still held by many mistaken people. I wish all 
such would read Mr. Webster's whole speech on this and 
kindred topics. I quote only the following passage : — 

Why, sir, it is vain to talk about tlie destructive tendency of such a sys- 
tem ; to argue upon it is to insult the understanding of every man ; it is 
mere, sheer, low, ribald, vulgar deism and infidelity ! It opposes all that 
is in heaven, and all on earth that is worth being on earth. It destroys 
the connecting link between the creature and the Creator ; it opposes that 
great system of universal benevolence and goodness that binds man to his 
Maker. No religion till he is eighteen ! What would be the condition of 
all our families, of all our children, if religious fathers and religious moth- 
ers were to teach their sons and daughters no religious tenets till they 
were eighteen ? What would become of their morals, their character, their 
purity of heart and life, their hope for time and eternity ? What would 
become of all those thousand ties of sweetness, benevolence, love and 
Christian feeling, that now render our young men and young maidens like 
comely plants growing up by a streamlet's side ? the graces and the grace 
of opening manhood, of blossoming womanhood ? What would become 
of all that now renders the social circle lovely and beloved ? What would 
become of society itself ? How could it exist ? And is that to be consid- 
ered a charity which strikes at the root of all this \ which subverts all the 
excellence and the charms of social life ; which tends to destroy the very 
foundation and framework of society, both in its practices and opinions ; 
which subverts the whole decency, the whole morality, as well as the whole 
Christianity and government of society ? No, sir ! no, sir ! 

The speech in the trial of the Knapps is one of great in- 
genuity and power, and is pervaded in all parts by a high 
moral tone. There is one passage in it, on the power of 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



135 



conscience, of so marked a character as to arrest the atten- 
tion of every reader, and which I venture to transfer to my 
pages, at the risk of repeating what is already famihar: — 

Ah ! gentlemen, that was a dreadful mistake. Such a secret can be safe 
nowhere. The whole creation of God has neither nook nor corner where 
the guilty can bestow it, and say it is safe. Not to speak of that eye 
which pierces through all disguises, and beholds everything as in the splen- 
dor of noon, such secrets of guilt are never safe from detection, even by 
men. True it is, generally speaking, that " murder will out." True it is, 
that Providence hath so ordained, and doth so govern things, that those 
who break the great law of heaven by shedding man's blood, seldom suc- 
ceed in avoiding discovery. Especially, in a case exciting so much atten- 
tion as this, discovery must come, and will come, sooner or later. A thou- 
sand eyes turn at once to explore every man, every thing, every circum- 
stance, connected witli the time and place ; a thousand ears catch every 
whisper ; a thousand excited minds intensely dwell on th% scene, shedding 
all their light, and ready to kindle the slightest circumstance into a blaze 
of discovery. Meantime the guilty soul cannot keep its own secret. It is 
false to itself ; or rather it feels an irresistible impulse of conscience to 
be true to itself. It labors under its guilty possession, and knows not 
what to do with it. The human heart was not made for the residence of 
such an inhabitant. It finds itself preyed on by a torment, which it dares 
not acknowledge to God or man. A vulture is devouring it, and it can ask 
no sympathy or assistance either from heaven or earth. The secret which 
the murderer possesses soon comes to possess him, and leads him whither- 
soever it will. He feels it beating at his heart, rising to his throat, and 
demanding disclosure. He thinks the whole world sees it in his face, reads 
it in his eyes, and almost hears its workings in the very silence of his 
thoughts. It has become his master ; it betrays his discretion ; it breaks 
down his courage ; it conquers his prudence. When suspicions from with- 
out begin to embarrass him, and the net of circumstances to entangle him, 
the fatal secret struggles with still greater violence to burst forth. It must 
be confessed, it will be confessed; there is no refuge from confession but 
suicide, and suicide is confession. 



136 JAMMS TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

But there is another sense in which Mr. Webster's 
speeches exhibit a remarkable moral tone — they breathe 
throughout what might be called a high constitutional mo- 
rality. We freely admit the right of a people to revolution. 
We as freely admit the right of an individual to disobey the 
law for conscience' sake, he acknowledging his civil liability 
for the violation, and manfully taking the consequences. 
For genuine conscience is no sneak. The great martyrs to 
civil and religious liberty never won their title to the crown 
of martyrdom by sneaking, but while they openly proclaimed 
the injustice of the law, they vindicated their sincerity, and 
gave weight to their testimony, by calmly and meekly yield- 
ing themselves up to suffer the penalty. When they placed 
their consciences above the law, they placed them, also, 
above racks, and tortures, and death itself. There is doubt- 
less such a thing as a "higher law." But a higher law which 
deserves the name must be calm, self-reliant and manly. 
When a case of conscience actually arises, when the 
" higher law " plainly demands your obedience, follow it ; 
but in all cases which fall short of this, obedience to the 
established laws of the land is the plain dictate of morality ; 
nay, it is a high and sacred duty, which in a free govern- 
ment, like ours, rises almost to the character of a cardinal 
virtue. It is by the prevailing sense of this obligation 
among the people of this country that we have been pre- 
served thus far, and enjoy the happiness and prosperity by 
which we are surrounded. 

If we need illustrations to teach us the importance of this 
principle, we have them, and very impressive ones, too, in 
the history of other nations. Within the past year we have 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 137 

seen the only considerable republic on the continent of Eu- 
rope go down under the clutch of a tyrant, for the want of 
this very feeling. Had there existed a tithe of the constitu- 
tional morality in France which exists in this country, Louis 
Napoleon might have been the president of France, but 
never could have become its emperor. In his proclamation 
to the people, on his first strike, the prince-president gravely 
said to them that he had " left the law to return to right " ; 
which, I suppose, he thought a very pretty saying, a genuine 
bon mot. But how would such a saying sound from the 
president of these United States } " Left the law to return 
to right " ! What utter confusion of ideas ! Was not the 
right in the law } and if it was not, who authorized him to 
go in search of it elsewhere .f* The republic was legally es- 
tablished, and rightfully could be abolished Vnly by law. 
This single sentence, so confidently put forth, and so read- 
ily received by the nation, reveals the whole ground of the 
downfall of the French republic. There was no sound 
constitutional morality either in the people or their chiefs. 
So, too, with the Mexican and South American republics. 
These republics are mostly modeled after our own, and have 
been in existence about half the period of our Union. But 
how different their history ! It presents little else than a 
succession, in each state, of plots and revolutions, conducted 
by rival chieftains, each endeavoring to supplant the other, 
and gain possession of the chief power, not by the free votes 
of the people, but by the sword. It is hoped that.somic of 
them are improving a little of late, but they still exhibit a 
great want of that practical regard for law which has been 
the fruitful cause of much of their calamitous history. 
i8 



138 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

But with US, by the favor of Providence, a sound consti- 
tutional moraHty has become so thoroughly established (and 
may it never become unsettled) that law and majorities, the 
two great principles of our government, are acquiesced in 
without the least show of resistance, or even a murmur. 
When the voice of the majority is fairly pronounced, the 
most extensive party organizations and the intensest party 
excitement collapse and subside, like a tempest which has 
spent its force. Nor is it necessary that the majority should 
be large in order to command a quiet acquiescence. There 
are constantly occurring among us instances of elections, 
and that, too, to the highest offices, carried by a single vote, 
where the, successful candidate takes his seat as quietly as 
though elected by a majority of thousands. This virtue, 
undoubtedly, we inherited largely from our English ances- 
try, but it needs constant and assiduous cultivation, and it 
will ever be one of the chief elements in the fair fame of 
Mr. Webster, that he so studiously, perseveringly and effect- 
ually inculcated and enforced it, through the whole course 
of his life. The words of Senator Seward, recently uttered 
in the senate of the nation, referring to Mr. Webster's de- 
cease, so happily express the great service which Mr. Web- 
ster rendered the country in this regard, that I venture 
to quote them here : — 

The first revolutionary assembly that convened in Boston promulgated 
the principle of the revolution of 1688 — " Resistance to unjust laws is 
obedience to God " — and it became the watchword throughout the colo- 
nies. Under that motto the colonies dismembered the British Empire 
and erected the American Republic. At an early day it seemed to Daniel 
Webster that the habitual cherishing of that principle, after its great work 
had been consummated, threatened to subvert, in its turn, the free and 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 1^9 

beneficent constitution, which afforded the highest attainable security 
against the passage of unjust laws. He addressed himself, therefore, 
assiduously, and almost alone, to what seemed to him a duty of calling the 
American people back from revolutionary theories, to the formation of 
habits of peace, order, and submission to authority. He inculcated the 
duty of submission by states and citizens to all laws passed within the 
province of constitutional authority, and of absolute reliance on constitu- 
tional remedies for the correction of all errors, and the redress of all injus- 
tice. This was the political gospel of Daniel Webster. He preached it 
in season and out of season, boldly, constantly, with the zeal of an apos- 
tle, and with the devotion, if there were need, of a martyr. It was full of 
saving influences while he lived, and those influences will last so long as 
the constitution and the Union endure. 

It remains that I make a few observations on the style of 
Mr, Webster's speeches. Style is to writings what manners 
are to the man, or what the cut is to a coat. It is the 
fashion of one's thoughts. Language is the fabric, and 
the book, the speech ; the article, the made garment ; and 
every writer is his own tailor. If he be a bungling work- 
man, the cloth is spoiled; if skillful, the wonder is how so 
comely a garment could be made from such homespun stuff. 
Mr. Webster always preferred the homespun to the factory- 
made or imported article, but he was no bungler in making 
it up. And as a well-made garment always fits the person 
for whom it was designed, so a good style always fits the 
intellectual character of the writer. It is its very image 
and superscription. This is eminently the case with Mr. 
Webster's style. He copied no foreign modes, he sought no 
model out of himself, but simply sought to develop fitly and 
adequately what was in himself. His style is simply Daniel 
Webster embodied in speech. In the small space now left 
I shall not attempt fully to characterize that style, but sim- 
ply to name two of its prominent qualities. 



140 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

The first is its highly argumentative character. Mr. 
Webster does not, to be sure, make so much use of illative, 
causal and syllogistic words as some, but he is always reason- 
ing, notwithstanding. The mere outward form and frame- 
work of reasoning, the mere array of "fors," and "there- 
fores," and " consequentlys," which are but the stepping- 
stones in the ascent of reasoning, and which a master mind 
always dispenses with in a great measure, are by no means 
formidable in his speeches ; but the real substance of reason- 
ing is there, and is felt all the more for being disencumbered 
of these dialectic clogs. Mr. Webster's speeches are always 
founded upon matter, not upon vacuity, as is the case with too 
many speeches. He always has an important subject, which 
he opens his way into further and further, every sentence he 
utters. He always has a goal before him, which he steadily 
keeps in view, and as steadily approaches at every step. 
He has a point to prove, and he is always proving it. 
There is no retrogression in his movements, no running off 
on tangents, no introduction of irrelevant matter, no excur- 
sions into the regions of fancy, no distracting array of learn- 
ing, no bewildering corruscations of wit or of rhetoric, but 
simply straight-forward, pertinent, forcible argument — often 
brilliant, no doubt, often ornamented, but yet none the less 
solid argument. The great subject, tossed to and fro by his 
giant strength, and smitten now here and now there by his 
huge hammer, often rings with piercing echoes, and sends 
forth brilliant flashes of light, but they are drawn from the 
subject itself by the strength and skill of the workman — 
the light which is seen is the real, native light of the sub- 
ject, and not mere fireworks. I should like to exhibit the 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



141 



argumentative character of his style, by presenting an anal- 
ysis of one of his great speeches, but space does not allow, 
and if it did, it would only be presenting a dry skeleton, in- 
stead of the living and life-giving form itself. 

The other quality in Mr. Webster's style, which I here 
name, is its remarkable simplicity. There is nothing meta- 
physical, nothing stilted, and, generally, nothing elaborate 
about it. Not that Mr. Webster was wanting in metaphys- 
ical power, but that under the potent alchemy of his mind, 
abstractions were changed into concrete forms. It has been 
said that it takes time to be simple, and it might be added, 
that it takes talent, too. What a feeble mind works up to 
through complicated and laborious processes, spreading out 
a formidable array of stepping-stones, and formulas, and di- 
alectic machinery of every sort, a powerful and well-trained 
mind grasps at once in its elementary forms, and presents it 
with all the simplicity of nature. Such, pre-eminently, as I 
conceive, was the process with Mr. Webster. His was a 
mind of gigantic strength, developed and directed by severe 
discipline and profound study. He had the requisite talent, 
and took the requisite time, to be simple. Compared with 
the metaphysical disquisitions of Calhoun, or the elaborate 
discourses of Burke, the speeches of Mr. Webster have full 
as much, and generally much more, solid thought, while 
they have the great advantage of being infinitely more sim- 
ple and direct in their style. The business of the statesman 
is practical, and a statesman, to be a good one, rnust be a 
practical man, and have a plain, practical style of communi- 
cating his thoughts. In this Mr. Webster is unapproached, 
and almost unapproachable. There may be others who 



142 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

equal him in the bare matter of. simplicity, but for discuss- 
ing a great or profound subject in all its fullness and com- 
pleteness, according to a method and in language adapted 
to the comprehension of the humblest class of minds, I 
know of no equal. His style is almost conversational, and, 
indeed, quite so in parts of many of his speeches. He often 
seems to throw himself into a subject, and seize one frag- 
ment of it after another, and hold it up and talk about it, as 
a naturalist would about a mineral, till you see all its pecul- 
iarities, its angles of crystalization, its composition, and 
whole structure and history. He carries a strong business 
tact with him into his speeches. He has ideas which he is 
certain are valuable, and which he feels it is important that 
his hearers should understand and appreciate. He holds 
them up, therefore, to those around him, and expatiates 
upon their qualities earnestly and eloquently, and yet famil- 
iarly, as a merchant does upon his wares. This style of 
speaking may perhaps be thought by some to possess small 
merit compared with high-sounding and high-soaring ora- 
tory, and flowing, transcendent eloquence, but not by those 
experienced in public affairs. It is just what is needed, and 
just what does the work in deliberative bodies, and is worth 
more to a nation than oceans of phosphorescent rhetoric. 
The solidity and simplicity of Mr. Webster's style forms its 
crowning ornaments, and more than anything else accounts 
for his vast ascendency over all the other statesmen and ora- 
tors of our country. 

But I must bring these observations to a close ; and in 
doing so I feel how poor and meager they are, compared 
with the great subject to which they relate. Words cannot 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



143 



convey an adequate conception of the eloquence of Daniel 
Webster. In order to have any just idea of it, one must 
have witnessed its display for himself. His great power of 
thought and language was sustained and seconded by a per- 
son, a voice and a bearing, such as rarely grace the forum. 
He had the body of Agamemnon and the voice of Nestor, 
with a solemn dignity of bearing peculiarly his own. Of 
immense solidity and firmness of attitude, he seemed, while 
speaking in the court or in the senate, not unlike one of those 
bronze statues of the monarch of the forests, which stand in 
the public squares of large cities, with a copious stream of 
limpid water issuing from the mouth for the cooling and 
refreshing of those around, and in which the only motion 
discoverable is that occasional jar and agitation caused by 
the uprising of the rushing waters, struggftng to escape. 
The privilege of witnessing, in person, one of Mr. Webster's 
highest oratorical efforts, was always regarded as among the 
rarest sights in our land. To the cultivated man it was bet 
ter than Franconia, Niagara, or the Mammoth Cave. But 
the opportunity for such a sight has passed away forever, 
and nothing is left to perpetuate the impression, but the 
poor words of those who have happened at some time to be 
favored with it. The great orator, with his statue-like form, 
his massive head, his jutting brow, his speaking eye, his com- 
manding voice, and all that made him impressive to mortal 
sight, has gone down to the grave. He has taken his place 
among departed worthies, and has already become an histor- 
ical character. And as we look back through the gallery of 
history, adorned at long intervals with the forms of the 
great, we seem to see no form taller or more majestic than 



144 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



his. He moves with all the ease and dignity of conscious 
equality among the Demostheneses, the Ciceros, the Chat- 
hams and the Burkes of other ages, and not without some 
indications of superiority to them all. Inter pares facile 
princeps. 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION 

% 

COLLEGE CHAPEL 

FEB. 29, 1872 



CHRISTIAN EDUCATION. 



Psalms hi. io. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. 

These words have seemed to me as appropriate as any to 
the purpose which I have in view, of addressing you on the 
subject of Christian education. Systems of education, 
according to the prevailing spirit or element which charac- 
terizes them, may be divided into the scientific, the aesthetic 
and the Christian. To this list, indeed, n^ght be added 
what is called practical education. This, however, is but 
a method, not a system, of education. It concerns the man- 
ner of imparting knowledge, or the aim kept in view, rather 
than the substance of the knowledge imparted. Practical 
education is opposed to theoretical education, and hence 
may be either the scientific, the aesthetic, or the Christian 
system carried out practically. Or, if in certain cases the 
term practical education has come to be used to designate 
the system of truths taught, it refers to such truths as are 
readily made practical, and then it would be little more than 
a subdivision of scientific education. 

There are, then, properly speaking, but three systems of 
education — the scientific, the literary or aesthetic, and the 
Christian. Of these, the scientific relies chiefly upon the 
truths of science for furnishing and educating the mind. 
And by science is coming to be understood almost exclu- 

147 



148 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

sively physical science. Mathematics is scarcely embraced 
under it, except as an instrument for investigating the laws 
of nature, and as to metaphysics, it is wholly rejected. In 
short, the term science as now used means little more than 
what is known as positive science, which ignores all abstract 
conceptions, such as those of " attraction," " force," " causa- 
tion " — whether first or final — and devotes itself wholly to 
facts, and their generalization by simple enumeration, ac- 
cording to their succession and similarity. The tendency of 
science, I say, is to this form, and, as far as it approaches it, 
a simple scientific education must appear to every one a 
very defective and incomplete means of culture. Is it 
enough for one to know simply the facts and laws of phys- 
ical nature } to be able to recognize and classify the natural 
objects by which he is surrounded ? to know what in experi- 
ence will bring weal and what woe } Shall he not inquire 
also into the nature, origin and destiny of his own soul ? 
Shall he not seek after God, if haply he may find him ? 
May he not pry into the causes of things, and study their 
adaptations and design? There is here, it is obvious, a 
wide field untouched by science in its popular, accepted 
sense. 

So also is a strictly literary or aesthetic education one- 
sided and incomplete. Such an education does not, it is 
true, wholly ignore the high problems just named, yet it 
attends to them, as well as to scientific questions, but inci- 
dentally. Its great instrument for educating the mind is art 
and letters. These letters may relate to any subject, pro- 
vided it be viewed under the relations of taste. They may 
embrace science and metaphysics and theology in their 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



149 



lighter and more attractive forms. All polite literature, 
whether in the form of philosophy, of history, of fiction, or 
of poetry, is pressed into its service. And with these, and 
the study of the fine arts, much undoubtedly may be done 
in furnishing and training the mind. But much also will 
remain undone ; and especially the more robust and mascu- 
line powers of the mind will remain comparatively undevel- 
oped — the powers of generalization and abstraction, of 
broad and comprehensive conception, and of high and 
subtle reasoning. Such a training may produce a refined 
and elegant culture, but will leave the mind impotent to 
grapple with the more profound and difficult questions 
which underlie all knowledge, or are connected with our 
being and destiny. 

An cesthetic education, then, is not less dMective than a 
mere scientific education, though in a different way each 
should be supplemented by the other, and to make the sys- 
tem perfect, both should be supplemented by a Christian 
education. And by Christian education I do not mean pre- 
cisely what is sometimes expressed by it. I do not mean so 
much an education in the forms and details of Christianity, 
as an education which founds and proceeds upon some of 
its great fundamental principles — such as the existence of 
God as a creator and governor of the universe, the reality 
of design or final causes in the works of nature, the person- 
ality and immortality of the human soul, and the like. I 
am speaking of education in its public and general relations. 
The details of a Christian education belong to the family 
and the church ; but a public education should at least rec- 
ognize and rest upon its fundamental principles. And it is 



1^^ JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

remarkable that the above-named principles, and a few oth- 
ers like them, such as the reality of an external world, are 
what Dr. Reid calls principles of common sense, and ap- 
peals in their defense — successfully, as I think — to the 
common sense of mankind. By others they are called met- 
aphysical and theological ideas, and by Kant, ideas of the 
pure reason. But, by whatever name they are called, they 
obviously lie at the foundation of all knowledge, and are 
essential to connect it together and give it coherence. If 
external nature, to adopt the definition of Mr. Mill, be noth- 
ing more than " a permanent possibility of impressions," and 
we ourselves only the correlative possibility of receiving or 
realizing these impressions, and God and Providence be 
merely the ceaseless and endless on-flowing of these impres- 
sions, given and received in orderly succession according to 
fixed laws, what is knowledge but the baseless fabric of a 
vision ? In the language of Fichte, "All reality is converted 
into a marvelous dream, without a life to dream of, and with- 
out a mind to dream; into a dream made up only of a dream 
of itself." And not only are these ideas necessary in order 
to give substance and coherence to knowledge, but they are 
of the very highest importance in their moral and disciplin- 
ary effect. What better, what more wholesome gymnastic 
is there for the mind, than is found in the investigation and 
study of these great ideas, so intimately connected with the 
origin, the existence and destiny both of ourselves and other 
things ! Every system of knowledge or education, then, 
which excludes or ignores these ideas, is radically defective, 
and unworthy at least of a Christian country. Let us pro- 
ceed now to a more detailed consideration of some of these 
fundamental truths. 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 151 

I. Of the belief in the existence and providence of God- 
The existence of God has been said to be the condition of 
the possibility of all things. No God, no universe ; no cre- 
ator, no creation. But the Christian conception of God is 
not merely that of a creator, but of a kind, ever-present and 
ever-provident Father. He is represented in Scripture not 
only as the maker of all things, and of ourselves among 
other beings and things, but as sustaining all things in exist- 
ence by the constant exertion of his power, and directing 
their movements by the constant exercise of his wisdom; as 
embracing in his Providence every movement in this vast 
scheme of things, and ordering them all for the best good 
of his intelligent creatures ; as knowing our thoughts, 
words and deeds, and holding us responsible for the same ; 
as compassionating our case as sinners, anJl making pro- 
vision for our recovery from our lost estate ; but that, 
although thus long-suffering and compassionate, yet, as our 
final judge, he will by no means spare those who persist in 
sin, but consign them to their just doom in another world. 
What a conception this ! How admirably adapted to our 
condition ! How encouraging to the right-minded, how 
deterrent to evil-doers ! Obliterate it, and what a chasm, 
what a blank it leaves ! And yet there are those who would 
obliterate it. And on what grounds.? 

Some say that they cannot find God. They look for him 
but they behold him not ; they listen, but they hear not his 
voice ; they search through nature, but they find no traces 
of him. To such the history of all growths and changes in 
the world, including races of men, animals, plants, and all 
other transformations which take place, are but genealogical 



152 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 



tables of succession, wherein one thing begets another, and 
so on indefinitely ; yes, indefinitely, perhaps, but not on this 
account infinitely. These changes are all effects as well as 
causes, and effects, too, before they are causes, and however 
great their number, would not supply the necessary condi- 
tion of a cause which is not also an effect. The chain is 
not only made up of finite links, but of links without a sta- 
ple to fasten to. And then, are we sure that God does 
not intervene between the links, to form the connections 
throughout the whole length of the chain ? Or, if it be 
said that these transitions from one thing to another are all 
made by forces inherent in nature itself, we may still inquire 
who put those forces there ? Does matter generate force of 
itself ? Are we to believe that all these powers of attraction 
and repulsion, that these afiinities and repugnances which 
pervade nature, that the wonderful agencies of light, heat 
and electricity, that the myriad adaptations among objects, 
as of iron for the railroad track, of coal and wood for the 
generation of heat, of the horse for the bridle and his rider, 
the ox for the yoke, the eye for the light — are we to believe, 
I say, that all these are self-constituted and independent.? 
Impossible ! Is it not infinitely more probable that this 
scheme of men and things was made with mutual corre- 
spondences, so as to work together by a wise and beneficent 
creator .? 

To most men, I am persuaded, this seems vastly the more 
probable hypothesis. And yet there are some who appear 
to doubt it. For, say they, matter is eternal — it cannot be 
destroyed, it cannot be created. We may change its form, 
we may decompose it, we may burn it, we may evaporate it, 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 153 

but we cannot destroy it, nor diminish nor increase its 
amount by a single particle. Very true, we cannot, but 
does this prove that God cannot ? Indeed, this is begging 
the whole question, which is, whether the existence of mat- 
ter, and the world as it is, do not require the supposition of 
a creator. We are brought back, then, to the point just 
considered, whether it is more probable that this scheme of 
things, including men, animals and other objects, with all 
their powers, properties, adaptations and correspondences, 
exist, and always have existed, independently and of them- 
selves, or have been brought into existence, and sustained 
by an omnipotent creator. I trust there is no one present 
who has any doubt on this point. And yet it may not be 
amiss to glance for a moment at the way in which those 
who hold to the eternity of matter and reject the idea of a 
creator attempt to account for things as we find them. We 
find matter existing both as organized and unorganized, ani- 
mate and inanimate, and with almost infinite variations 
under each of these forms. And the question is, how has 
matter attained these forms if there has been no creation. 
Why, say they, by a constant evolution from simpler to 
more complicated forms, and this by an internal power of its 
own. Unorganized matter somehow works itself up into 
organized, and organized matter into animate matter. Yes, 
somehow ! but how they never have explained, and, I be- 
lieve, never can. A most elaborate attempt, indeed, has 
been made to explain this evolution through the .different 
forms of animate life, by Mr. Darwin and his followers, in 
their theory of the " Transmutation of Species." It is true 
that Darwinism is not necessarily atheistic, and yet it must 
20 



154 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

be apparent that that is its tendency. If existing species of 
plants and animals have sprung from a single original spe- 
cies by " natural variations and the survival of the fittest," 
why may not this original form of organic life have been 
evolved directly from inanimate matter ? 

And the theory is equally prejudicial to the doctrine of 
final causes. The lowest hypothesis which will satisfy the 
Christian idea of God is, that he concurs in all changes, or, 
in other words, that, if he has endowed matter with certain 
powers, these powers are not independent of himself — they 
must be sustained and seconded by him in order to be ope- 
rative. Without this there is no room for such a thing as 
Providence. And not only so, but that he has made things 
with permanent adaptations, so as to serve given ends, 
which may be said to be the ground or cause of his having 
made them so. And what evidence has the vaunted theory 
of evolution presented, and what can it present, to show 
that these adaptations are not designed and permanent ! 
Has it been able to point out any clear case — or any ap- 
proach, even, to a clear case — of the transformation of spe- 
cies during either the historical or fossiliferous period? 
Does it not rather depend upon slight, local, exceptional 
cases of transformation, and from these leap to general con- 
clusions, which are by no means warranted by the facts .? 
And what advantage has the theory for the explanation of 
nature over the old idea of adaptation and design ? Take, 
for instance, the giraffe — how does it happen that this ani- 
mal has such an exceptionally long neck ? The transmuta- 
tion theory assumes that it has become so in the struggle 
for life, in other words, by the necessity for high feeding in 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. ^^^ 

a country liable to droughts ; in brief, indirectly at least, as 
the result of stretching. Now, what advantage philosoph- 
ically has this view over that which regards this species of 
animal as made originally by an all-wise God for this very 
purpose, to get its sustenance from the shrubs and trees, 
while the other animals in the same habitat should feed 
upon the ground? And if philosophically the conception 
has no advantage over the common one, morally it is at a 
great disadvantage in the comparison, and on the score of 
probability also, as I believe. 

Indeed, this argument from design and final causes, which 
is well-nigh robbed of all significance by the evolution the- 
ory, is perhaps the most striking and convincing of all the 
arguments for the existence of God. To design or con- 
ceive of ends and contrive means to attain tkose ends, is the 
distinctive act of human intelligence, and hence, when we 
discover in our own bodies and in other objects around us 
such striking evidences of design and adaptation of means 
to ends, we very naturally, and legitimately, too, ascribe 
them to a wise and beneficent creator. Thus the Apostle 
Paul, in the first of Romans, says, " The invisible things of 
him from the creation of the world are clearly seen, being 
understood by the things that are made, even his eternal 
power and Godhead." So also the Psalmist: "O Lord, 
how manifold are thy works ! in wisdom hast thou made 
them all ; the earth is full of thy riches." And again, " I 
will praise thee, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made : 
marvelous are thy works ; and that my soul knoweth right 
well." And who in studying his own frame, and contem- 
plating the various aspects of nature, is not conscious of 



156 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

similar sentiments struggling far utterance ! What a piece 
of mechanism is the human body, furnished as it is with 
levers and joints and lubricating fluids! supplied with ducts, 
veins and arteries to nourish, with muscles to move, with 
bones to sustain and protect, with nerves to feel and flesh to 
round it out and make it a fit tabernacle for the indwelling 
of the spirit ! The ancient Greeks, who had a lively per- 
ception of beauty and order, designated the universe by a 
word which embodied both these ideas — cosmos ; and this 
has not been thought by one of the greatest naturalists of 
modern times an unsuitable title under which to publish to 
the world the results of his vast explorations through the 
realms of nature. " Beauty and order " ; these are the grand 
characteristics of nature which meet us everywhere — 
whether we view a limited landscape, made up of hill and 
dale, forest and rippling stream ; or traverse vast tracks of 
country diversified by mountain and prairie, lake and water- 
fall, and irrigated by great rivers, making their way to the 
ocean; whether we look out upon the earth clothed with 
verdure or sheeted with snow ; whether we look up to the 
heavens studded with stars, or down into the deep sparkling 
with gems ! And who but an all-wise and benevolent being 
could have so made and ordered all these things ! Surely 
" The heavens declare the glory of God ; and the firmament 
showeth his handiwork." 

It is not pretended, of course, that the evidence of the 
existence of God is demonstrative, that is, so conclusive that 
the opposite is absolutely impossible. The question is not 
of a nature to admit that kind of proof — but the proof is 
next to that, it possesses the very highest degree of prob- 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 157 

ability ; and the importance of the doctrine is so great that 
the slightest degree of probability in its favor should be 
sufficient to determine as to its acceptance. Hold on to 
this great idea, therefore, against all specious reasoning and 
against all solicitations of wicked men and wicked passions. 
Indeed, it is so fundamental, so primary in its nature, so 
essential to everything which deserves the name of knowl- 
edge or enters into our experience, that one cannot rest long 
in its rejection. If cast out it will return to haunt you, so 
that you must entertain it either as a reality or as a specter. 
Settle down upon it, then, as a finality, and conforming your 
lives to it, rest in it in peace and security ! 

II. But in addition to the doctrines of a first and of final 
causes, there is another fundamental Christian doctrine 
which it comes within the scope of the present discourse to 
consider, namely, the personality, the responsibility and im- 
mortality of the human soul. It is true that neither this nor 
the other doctrines named are exclusively Christian ; they 
were all held, with greater or less certainty, by many of the 
ancient Greek and Roman philosophers, to say nothing of 
other heathen writers. But they are adopted and set forth 
with much greater distinctness and prominence in the Scrip- 
tures, so much so, that of the doctrine now under consider- 
ation it is said, that " life and immortality are brought to 
light in the Gospel." And, as there could be no Savior if 
there were no God, so there could be no salvation if the 
soul were not immortal. These doctrines, therefore, are 
fundamental to Christianity, and hence deserve to be de- 
nominated Christian. 

My exposition of the doctrine of immortality must neces- 



158 JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 

sarily be brief. And it is not needful that much should be 
said in its defence. Our instincts all plead for immortality. 
Every one shrinks from the thought of annihilation — of 
perishing with the brutes. I am to speak, however, not sim- 
ply of the immortality of the soul, but of our personality 
and responsibility. Immortality without personality would 
be merely endless existence, without any one to be inter- 
ested in it. The immortality of the soul, unless that soul 
has a distinct, conscious personality, is no more than the 
immortality of the rocks and trees, and other unconscious 
things. Personality, then, supposes consciousness, and a 
unity and continuity of consciousness. It is a conscious- 
ness all one's own, the privity, if I may so say, to what is 
going on within a certain sphere, to which no other person 
has access. This is the first element of personality. A 
second element is, that this conscious being discriminates 
himself from other things — there is to him a me and a not 
me. He knows himself, and he knows other things as dif- 
ferent from himself. A third element is the power of choos- 
ing and acting [for himself. Such a self-conscious, self- 
discriminating and self-controlling existence is a person or 
individual. He is not to be confounded with things around 
him ; he is no mere phenomenon, appearing and disappear- 
ing amid the transformations of nature, no mere waif thrown 
up from pantheistic depths, but a distinct, self-centered indi- 
vidual, the crowning work of creation, the noblest work of 
God. And having the power of knowing and choosing, 
of knowing the right and choosing it, of course he is 
responsible. 

And can it be that such a being is made to endure but for 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 159 

a day! Made in the image of God, why should not his 
existence run parallel with that of God ? A person, a hu- 
man being, has been defined as a soul served by a material 
organism. The organism, the body, may die, but why 
should this involve the death of the soul ? Its dissolution, 
to be sure, removes to mere lookers-on the sensible evidence 
of the existence of the soul ; but the body being of a differ- 
ent nature from the soul, as all the phenomena of life go to 
show, what destroys it would not be likely to destroy the 
soul. As the taking down of the scaffolding does not at all 
damage the house, but on the contrary only renders its fair 
proportions more striking, so we may well suppose that the 
dissolution of these limbs and external senses, which have 
been so helpful and essential to the soul in the experience 
of life in this material world, will be only disencumbering it 
of what has obscured its glory, and removing the only obsta- 
cle to a higher and more spiritual existence. Indeed, I see 
nothing incredible in the supposition of Bishop Butler, that 
the soul will be so little affected by the dissolution of the 
body as to pass through the crisis of death without the sus- 
pension of its usual processes of thinking, and thus, by the 
death of the body, be born directly into a new life. And 
surviving the death of the body, we can see nothing to limit 
its duration. 

This, I am aware, is but a slight and very partial exhibi- 
tion of the arguments for the immortality of the soul, and 
even were they all presented in their most convincing form, 
it is freely admitted, as in the previous case, that they would 
fall short of a perfectly demonstrative proof. The proof 
here also is merely probable, though in the highest de- 
gree so. 



160 JAMES Tift champlin. 

And this, as you are aware, is the case with most ques- 
tions. Only questions of quantity admit of absolutely de- 
monstrative proof. Hence all moral and religious questions, 
as well as most questions pertaining to practical life, are 
merely probable. Indeed, as observed by Bishop Butler, to 
man with his limited powers probability is the guide of life. 
And what is probability ? When we pronounce any event 
or conclusion to be probable, we always mean that the pre- 
ponderance of reasons seems to us to be in favor of such 
event or conclusion, as against any other. This preponder- 
ance may be greater or less in different cases, but in all 
cases, in order to constitute probability, it must be sufficient 
to incline the reason to a particular conclusion, and as rea- 
son is given us for a guide within its sphere, what convinces 
the reason should determine the conduct. If it do not, we 
show ourselves prejudiced and perverse. 

Hence it is that so much stress is laid upon faith in the 
Scriptures. Faith, as far as it is a matter of the intellect, is 
belief, probable opinion, and is by no means confined to re- 
ligious questions. The great metaphysical questions, which 
are fundamental to all science and life, such as the real, sub- 
stantive existence of matter and of our own souls, as well 
as the existence of God, are matters of faith. They can- 
not be absolutely demonstrated ; yet the indications are all 
in their favor, and meet upon all sides. They appeal to us 
through our senses, through our feelings and through our 
reason, so that we cannot long rest in their rejection. And 
so it is with strictly religious questions, such as our condem- 
nation for sin under the law of God, the necessity of an 
atonement, the reality of a state of retribution in another 



JAMES TIFT CHAMPLIN. 161 

world, and the like. These questions meet us on every side, 
and solicit our attention and acceptance in ten thousand 
indescribable ways. We may try to disprove them, and 
think we have done so, but they will return in every hour of 
seriousness. They will be called up at innumerable points 
in the experience of life. The interest at stake being so 
great, we cannot and ought not to disregard the slightest 
probability in their favor. In religious matters, therefore, 
faith has great scope, and ought to have great influence 
with us. 

Thus an education which rests upon the doctrines of first 
and final causes, and of the immortality of the soul, is at 
the same time an effectual discipline of that habit of mind 
which is concerned in Christian faith, and hence opens the 
way into the very heart of Christianity. Sucl^an education, 
then, may well claim for itself the title of Christian, espe- 
cially in these days, when there are so many who ignore or 
reject these doctrines, in their mad attempt to undermine 
the foundations of our religion. Let Christians, then, hold 
on to these doctrines all the more tenaciously, instil them 
carefully into the minds of their children, and see that they 
are inculcated in their institutions of learning. They are 
by no means the whole of religion, but they are essential as 
a foundation for it — the best possible safeguard, the surest 
anchorage for the mind to rest in. Being once intelli- 
gently received and vividly realized, they open the mind to 
the reception of the other truths of religion, and dispose the 
heart to receive them. 



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